


Key To the Highway

by SpencerRemyLvr



Series: Nephilim [4]
Category: Criminal Minds, Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Friendship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Identity Reveal, M/M, Nephilim, Nephilim!Spencer, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Season 5 Criminal Minds, Season 5 Supernatural, Secrets, slight OOC characters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-03-03
Packaged: 2018-03-14 15:12:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 50,933
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3415430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpencerRemyLvr/pseuds/SpencerRemyLvr
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spencer's joined Team Free Will, now it's time for him to meet all its members and maybe bring in a few of his own. Truths come out, secrets are revealed, and friendships are made stronger than ever.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So here it is, folks! I really hope this doesn't disappoint. Again, I really have to thank IntoTheWilds and Eskimita, without whom this story wouldn't be here. My ladies have motivated me, pushed me, prodded me, edited for me, and listened to me whine and complain. So this story goes to you two! :) Now, this has spoilers for both shows up through season 5 and then goes way AU about midseason for both shows.
> 
> I've posted this over at FF as well and I have a poll up there for any who want to fill out. Or you can reply here in the comments and let me know. But I need to know what, if any, pairings you guys would like to see! Kind of important later on, y'know. Anyways, I hope you guys enjoy this story. It's been fun to write :)

Never before had Spencer been so grateful for his unique physiology that allowed him to function on far less actual sleep than the average human. It was one of those perks that he’d always kind of enjoyed. One that had definitely come in handy during those college years where he spent so much time studying. It came in handy as he’d gotten older, too, during those cases at the BAU that seemed to suck up all their time and put everyone on little sleep. The team usually attributed his alertness to his coffee intake. In reality, he was perfectly capable of living off of just a few hours’ worth of rest. Four was best, but two could suffice.

Ever since he left Sam to meet up with Dean a week ago, he’d been averaging about an hour and a half.

What time wasn’t spent at work or on a case was spent in research. Spencer was refreshing his knowledge on the apocalypse and trying to hunt down information about dreams. Though Sam didn’t openly admit it in the few phone calls they’d shared since they’d parted ways, there was no doubt in Spencer's mind that Lucifer was haunting his dreams. Nightmares, Sam tried to claim when Spencer asked him about it. Just nightmares. But what Spencer knew of the devil told him that even if it were simple nightmares right now it wouldn’t stay that way. He’d already showed that he had no qualms about entering Sam’s dreams and talking to him, trying to manipulate him. What was to stop him from trying again? No, no, Spencer wasn’t going to just sit back and let that happen. However, the usual methods to ward Sam’s dreams wouldn’t stand up against the Morningstar, and Spencer couldn’t spend every night at Sam’s side sheltering him under his wings. So he was hunting down for something, anything, that might be able to provide his charge with protection.

Spencer wondered sometimes how on earth he was going to manage the life he’d made for himself. Angel and Agent—which one was he? Somehow, he had to manage to balance both.

The agent half of his life held so many problems of its own right now with Foyet loose, taunting and torturing Aaron. It was one of those situations that sorely tested Spencer's ability to keep those parts of himself separate. The urge to protect his friends, people who were like family to him, had always been strong. Watching how this was ripping apart Aaron’s life only brought out that urge to protect even more. Aaron was a good friend, a strong man and a great leader, and he didn’t deserve any of this. When Foyet had attacked Aaron, stabbing him repeatedly and then dumping him at a hospital, Spencer's grace had screamed at him to heal his boss. But it was the same as it was with Bobby. Major healings like that—curing a paralysis, pulling someone back from Death’s door—they were miracles. It was one thing to heal a body, even a severely damaged one. But one that had been as close to Death as Aaron had been? That was a miracle and there was no way it wouldn’t be noticed.

Spencer hated how cowardly that made him feel.

Things were only going to get more mixed up, he knew. Right now he was still keeping these two parts of his life pretty well separate. That was mostly because the Winchesters had yet to truly need him. During one of their phone calls, Sam had explained to Spencer that he wanted to make sure he and Dean were working together somewhat better before he called Spencer out there for the three of them to have a sit down talk like they’d planned. Sam and Spencer both had agreed that they wanted to sit down and talk with Dean and try to plan a few things out before they set up the big meet-and-greet between Spencer and Castiel. There wasn’t exactly a lot of love between Dean and Spencer, and Sam had warned him that the first step to getting Castiel to even relax enough to listen to them would be to get Dean on their side. Until then, there wasn’t much that Spencer could do except go to work each day and continue his research each night.

CXCX

His first day back at work after his mad dash out of the bullpen had been just as awkward as he’d figured it would be. The story had gone round that he’d been sick and everyone seemed to readily accept that Spencer's reason for dashing away had been because he’d been ready to throw up. No one seemed to question it at all, much to Spencer's amazement and amusement. In fact, they believed it all so much, they all sort of pampered him when he came back. Penelope brought him a special soup for lunch that day and had baked him some ‘get better’ cookies. Emily had done some of his paperwork for him so he could ‘take it easy’. Aaron firmly told him to pace himself and that if he felt ill at all, to go home. Dave stopped in to check on him on his way to his office and flustered Spencer completely by checking his forehead for a fever and telling him that he still looked a little pale. Even Derek was extra courteous, offering him a little more time off if he needed it, which Spencer quickly refused. They were all being so kind to him, so caring, and that was what made it awkward. Awkward and uncomfortable. He didn’t like lying to them, no matter that it was for a good cause. He hated it, and their kindness only made it worse.

But by the end of the week, things had settled back in to normal, and they were back on a case. Somehow it seemed fitting that the case ended up being a supernatural one.

The case was a local one, in southeast DC, and it was brutal. That was the first thought that Spencer had when he viewed the photos on the way to the crime scene. The whole thing was brutal. Four dead in a home invasion. Two couples, beaten to death with, of all items, a crowbar. It left a sick feeling down low in his stomach just the way it always did.

“You know, no matter how many times I see it, it never gets any easier.” Emily murmured from beside him, unconsciously echoing his thoughts.

Spencer sighed softly and shook his head. “I don’t think it’s supposed to. Gideon always told me that the day it started to get easy to view things like this was the day to quit my job. He said that feeling is what separates us from them.”

“Among other things.” Dave added in from the front seat.

Humming his agreement, Spencer turned his attention back to the file in his hand. Emily was right; this never got any easier to see. No other animal on earth was capable of such cruelty as that of man.

CXCX

He didn’t truly suspect anything supernatural at first. Part of that might’ve been because he didn’t go inside the first crime scene. While Derek, Emily and Dave went in, Spencer had stayed out with Aaron and JJ and profiled outside the crime scene, checking out the point outside where the Unsubs had blitz attacked one of the victims by his car. From there he’d been carried up to the door and then inside, where the rest of the attack had taken place. The BAU team left the scene with one very clear thing in mind. This wasn’t a single Unsub they were hunting—this was a pack.

Still, it wasn’t until the second crime scene that Spencer found anything that suggested something supernatural. What he found made it pretty clear, too.

He probably would’ve noticed it if he’d gone into the first crime scene. The fact that he hadn’t was something he’d scold himself for later. But he noticed it the instant he climbed out of the car at this crime scene. Human senses wouldn’t have picked up on it. Spencer, however, couldn’t miss it. There was a dark feel in the air around them and a scent of ash and rotten eggs that he associated with only one thing—demons. Their foul scent was easy for an angel to pick up on and it was spread all over the crime scene. Not even the fresh air was enough to chase it away. It had Spencer wrinkling his nose as he walked across the parking lot to where the victims lay covered. He saw one of the local officers looking at him, sneering a little and shaking their head. Let them think what they wanted about him. If any of them could feel or smell what he could, they’d be wrinkling their nose too.

Spencer made himself go over to the victims, though it was worse over there. Even without the demonic edge this would still be considered a bad one. Judging by the scene, a girl was being picked up by her boyfriend as she got off work when the two of them were attacked. The Unsubs had been particularly brutal, especially on their victims’ faces. The feel of demons was even stronger right at the victims. It was enough to make Spencer's stomach roll. Sometimes he wished he wasn’t so sensitive to this. His Father had told him that all angels were sensitive to these kinds of things but that Spencer was more sensitive than most. They weren’t quite sure if it was just that he was a more sensitive angel, or if it was something to do with him being a mixed breed, so to speak, or what. But whereas most angels could sense demons around, feel their presence on things, Spencer reacted so much stronger to it, able to feel or smell the stench a demon left behind long after even other angels might not notice it. His Father suggested once that it wasn’t the demons themselves he was sensing, but the touch of evil left behind. Not that it really mattered. It still meant demon in the end.

The fact that this was demons changed so much. He needed to look at this crime scene and the last one in an entirely different light. He also had to figure out how on earth he was going to solve this and take care of the demons without involving the local officers or his team. Chasing demons with police and FBI all over, all of them looking for the very same people without the others realizing what it was they were hunting? Oh, yeah, this was going to be great fun.

CXCX

It was hard to work two jobs at the same time. On one hand, Spencer had to act like a profiler and work the case just the same as the rest of the team. He had to treat this case like it was normal and profile it that way. Not only did that cover him with the team, but there was always the chance that not all of this ‘pack’ were possessed and maybe the humans could be profiled and found that way. Anything to help him find them, he’d do. On the other hand, he had to look at this as a hunter, too, tracking down the demon that way. If he could narrow down the general area that he needed to look in, he could use his own personal abilities to track the demons the rest of the way. It’d used to be that hunting demons was easy. He sensed them once he got close enough to them. But, in the past few years demon activity had increased quite a bit, and that had only gotten worse since the start of the apocalypse. Naturally. And here in DC of all places, there was often some form of demon activity, even just for brief moments. It made it a bit tricky to track them.

Spencer was back at the BAU, sitting at the round table and looking over a map, contemplating the marked off crime scenes, when the phone in his pocket gave a buzz. He pulled it out and glanced down at the screen, expecting that one of the team might’ve sent him a photo or something that needed looked at. That was the only time he ever really got text messages. But instead of one of the team members, the display read SW.

A small smile curved Spencer's lips. No, not one of the team. At least, not this team. He thumbed open the message.

SW: _Hey, you busy?_

Though texting really wasn’t one of Spencer's preferred methods of contact, he wasn’t as ignorant of it as he used to be. The team still tended to get amused, however, by the fact that he absolutely refused to use any form of texting shorthand. Penelope especially seemed to get a kick out of it. Much to Spencer's gratitude, Sam had never said anything about it. In fact, he tended to type just as correctly as Spencer did. Sitting back in his chair, Spencer pulled his mind away from the map briefly to send a reply to his friend. It couldn’t be an emergency, he knew, otherwise Sam would’ve prayed.

SR: _Only slightly. Everything all right?_

It only took a second for Sam’s reply to come in. He typed a lot faster than Spencer did.

SW: _Yeah, no worries._

SW: _We’re just wrapping up a case we’re on and I’ve got Dean finally ready to sit down and have a powwow about what we should do._

Well, well, well. About time. It’d only taken an entire week before it happened. Spencer resisted the urge to roll his eyes. It wasn’t like he didn’t understand Dean’s mistrust. It was just that it made it a pain to be able to help them out when one of them so blatantly disliked and distrusted him. Spencer pushed a bit of hair back out of his face and blew out a breath. Getting crabby about things wouldn’t get them anywhere. There was no reason to get snippy with Sam, either. That would do nothing but make the man feel guilty and that was the last thing Spencer wanted to do. Sam already carried around enough guilt. Spencer refused to add on to it. But a bit of sarcasm was almost to be expected and would most likely set Sam at ease, oddly enough.

SR: _You mean he’s finally agreed to let me come out there?_

SW: _Yep. He’ll keep Cas away, too. That’s one of the things we’re going to talk about_

SR: _Oh joy._

This was important. Scanning his eyes over things, Spencer tried to build an estimate in his head of how long this might take him. Meeting with Sam and Dean was important but there was no way he could walk out on a case to do it.

SR: _I should be able to meet up with you two in 1-2 days. I’m wrapping up a demon hunt right now._

He wasn’t all that surprised by the response he got almost immediately after.

SW: _Need a hand?_

SR: _No, thank you. I should have them pinned down by tonight._

Footsteps outside of the meeting room warned Spencer that he was going to have company here shortly. His phone buzzed one last time right as Derek and Dave came walking into the room, talking away about something sort of message going around. Spencer took a moment to briefly look down at his phone.

SW: _Happy smiting_

Spencer chuckled softly. Such an interesting life he led when this was a casual, normal conversation. SR: _Thanks_ he sent. He closed the phone and slipped it back in his pocket just as the other two profilers cut off their conversation. He looked up to find Derek looking over at him, slipping down into the chair across from him. “Anything important?”

It took a second for Spencer to realize what Derek meant. When he did, he shook his head. “Oh, no, that wasn’t any of the team.”

“Wait a second. You were texting someone outside the team?” Derek asked, arching a brow at him. His lips quirked up in amusement. “I don’t believe it. Since when do you, our anti-technological doctor, _text_ people?”

“I’m not anti-technology!” Spencer argued automatically. “And I text with him because he and I both work rather odd hours. Better to have the phone vibrate with a text than ring at an inopportune moment.”

A familiar teasing light lit Derek’s face and Spencer knew that he’d just basically set himself up to be picked on. Derek always enjoyed teasing Spencer about his social life, or lack thereof, and finding out that he had a friend he text with was only ammunition for that. Luckily, someone was smiling down on Spencer. Dave spoke up before Derek got the chance to get started. “As amusing as discussing Reid’s social life might prove to be, we’ve got more important things to discuss. It looks like there’s going to be a riot tonight.”

All at once Spencer's attention turned back to the case and he pushed his conversation with Sam to the back of his mind. He’d deal with the Winchesters as soon as this case was done with. Until then, he needed to focus on finding the demon or demons before anyone else had to suffer.

CXCX

As bad as it made him feel, the riot was actually the perfect cover for Spencer. The team split up and went out to join the police force in an effort to try and quell rioters and to offer what assistance they could afterwards. Spencer knew that Aaron would head down to the police station afterwards and offer his assistance in speaking with anyone that was arrested. It was highly unlikely that anyone arrested tonight would be their Unsubs. That didn’t fit the profile. This wasn’t the way they operated. Spencer knew that it wasn’t the way a demon would operate, either. They’d instigate it, sure, and maybe even be out there in it, but they wouldn’t be dumb enough to get caught by the cops. However, they might be dumb enough to be out in the group, which was a benefit for Spencer. That gave him a concentrated area to extend his senses and try to find them.

Searching through the crowd took more than just eyes. Spencer had to open himself up just a little and focus around him. His plan was to— _hopefully_ —locate the demon somewhere in the crowd and then slip away from everyone else and use the chaos of the riot to get them out of there and somewhere secluded that he could handle it.

Of course, it didn’t happen that way.

He was walking with Emily, the two of them going to check on an officer that wasn’t answering his radio, when everything went to hell. One moment the two of them were rounding the corner of a building, a crowd dispersing behind them, and the next minute Emily was slamming into him and the two of them flew into the nearby wall. His head connected with the wall with a loud thump that set the world to spinning around him. Beside him, Emily was pressed against the wall, her body pinned in place. Spencer could feel the power trying to pin him as well and he knew even before he looked up that he hadn’t found the demon—the demon had found him.

When he lifted his head, he got the answer to one of his questions. It wasn’t just _a_ demon. Two men stood in front of them with pitch black eyes and, underneath it where no human could see, the dark twisted faces that all demons true forms wore. The men they wore were homeless men, Spencer saw, most likely possessed simply to enjoy the riot tonight. The demons wouldn’t have dared show up in the meat suits they were using for the murders. They’d probably possessed these poor bastards with the intention of letting them go and letting them take the heat once police got too close.

Beside him, Spencer heard Emily let out a low gasp and he almost turned to check on her. Then she stunned him completely when he heard her hiss “ _Demons_ ” That had him jerking his head towards her in shock. She was still pinned in place, furious eyes focused on the demons still walking towards them. How on earth did she know about demons?

No, now wasn’t the time to think of that. Now was the time to focus on getting them both out of here alive.

Spencer stayed against the wall, hoping that the demons would think him pinned as well. He’d only been thrown over here because Emily had impacted with him when they threw her. If he was lucky, they wouldn’t realize that he was free.

He should’ve known better. Luck hadn’t been on his side at all tonight.

The demons stopped a few feet away and they glared at Spencer. “What are you?” One of them hissed at him. He flicked a hand, obviously trying to do something to Spencer and just as obviously failing at it.

The other one was bracing and Spencer could feel it gathering like it was going to smoke out. With a small twist of his wrist, just out of eyesight, he extended enough grace to trap the demons in their meat suits. He’d already felt the bodies they were possessing and knew that nothing had been left behind of the souls that had once inhabited them. They were already dead and gone. That made this all much, much easier. “You shouldn’t have come out here tonight.” He told them, pushing himself away from the wall. “This town’s protected.”

“By who, maggot? _You_?” The second demon taunted.

Spencer slipped one hand behind him where he could wave his hand and no one would notice something magically appearing. Let them think he’d just been hiding something behind his back. When he brought his hand back out, it held a very special knife. One his father had gifted him back in college. He adjusted his grip on the hilt and let his lips curve. “By me.” He agreed. Then, without warning, he leapt forward.

Fighting without giving himself away wasn’t easy. There was no way he could use his powers here without Emily seeing them. Hence the knife he held. Anyone who had seen Spencer's abysmal attempts in hand-to-hand at the academy would’ve been stunned speechless by the sight of the genius now as he launched without fear right at the closest demon. He moved with a skill that he’d never showed—never _needed_ to show—while on the job. He knew he had to strike hard and fast before either of the demons had the chance to get away. Power hit power as one tried to use its ability to fling him again, and that moment of shock when it didn’t work was enough for Spencer to take out the first one with a stab straight up into its stomach.

He didn’t wait around to watch as the magic of the blade did its work. There was no recovering from that, he knew. Not from this blade. His father had made it special for him, enchanting it himself. The demon wasn’t just gone; it was dead. Spencer yanked the blade out and let the body drop as he spun around to meet the next. Taking a small risk, he pushed forward not just with body but with grace, pinning the demon up against the wall a safe distance away from Emily, who abruptly found herself freed. Spencer brought his knife up and pressed the sharp length of it against the demon’s neck. “What are you doing in this city?” He demanded. Judging by the way they were acting, he doubted there was some great plan other than the chaos and murder that had been happening, but he had to at least check and see. Better to be cautious about this.

The demon glared at him, defiant even when it knew it was staring death in the face. Spencer pressed in a little closer and let his grace flare in his eyes in open threat. Behind him, still invisible, his wings were lifted in both a threat and to protect the woman he could feel coming up cautiously behind him. Spencer was pleased to see the demon actually shiver in fear at being so close to grace. This was just a simple, low level demon, nothing special, and it knew it was outclassed here. “I’ll ask you one more time.” Spencer warned him. “What are you doing in this city?”

“We were just having fun.” The demon spat out reluctantly.

“You’ve been the ones going around murdering people. Those ones at the house, the two in the parking lot…”

“Of course.” A smirk curved its lips. “It was _easy_. We barely had to nudge those humans at all. They were already killers. We just…encouraged it a little. And it was fun.”

Spencer pressed the knife in a little more, making the demon suck in an unnecessary breath. “Are there more of you here?”

“Bite me.” The demon spat.

Lifting his free hand, Spencer slapped his palm against the demon’s forehead, not letting the power go but definitely letting the threat of it sit there. “Don’t press your luck with me. You know what I can do to you and you know I can pull every single answer I want out of you. So I suggest you answer my questions, or I take you out of here and we start to really have some fun.”

It was kind of pathetic how quickly the demon spoke, then. He hurried to assure Spencer that there were no others, just the two of them, and that there were no big plans held in place here. None of them had even known any hunters were around or they would’ve avoided the place entirely. Satisfied by the answers, Spencer nodded. Then, with one flick of his wrist, he sliced through its neck and watched as the body dropped and demon inside died. He forced himself not to just stand there and stare at the body of the man he’d just murdered— _it was already destroyed, the demon saw to that, this wasn’t murder!—_ and he turned around to face his friend, not quite sure what he was going to say.

He didn’t end up having to think up anything. Emily took care of it for him, giving him a very easy out that neatly covered everything. “You’re a Hunter.”

His eyebrows winged up, showing his surprise. “You know about Hunters?” He remembered earlier, she’d recognized the black eyes for what they were. “Are _you_ a Hunter?”

“No.” She shook her head, looking just a little stunned by all of this, not quite sure what to do. Her eyes were wide, deliberately looking at him and only at him, but her voice was steady. “We moved around a lot, growing up. You’re not the first Hunter I’ve met. I just…I never thought _you_ …”

Spencer couldn’t help but chuckle a little at that. “Yeah. I know I don’t exactly fit the standard image.”

He could see that she had so many questions and they were all sitting on the tip of her tongue. Right now, though, wasn’t the time for them. They were damn lucky so far that no one had come over here and seen this. How long that luck would hold, he didn’t know, and he still needed to clean the scene. The last thing they needed was for Spencer to get caught standing over two bodies with a knife in hand carved in Enochian symbols and two men lying on the ground with knife wounds. Before the first question could pass Emily’s lips, he held up his empty hand to silence her. “I know you have a thousand different questions. But right now isn’t the time for them. I need to clear this up as best as I can before someone comes. Can you go to the edge of the building and keep an eye out for me? I promise, as soon as this case is over and I have the free time to sit, I’ll answer whatever I can.”

One thing he’d always appreciated about Emily was her ability to keep a cool head in a crisis situation. Even when things were horrible, even when she was panicking, she had this ability to push it all back and handle what needed handling. She used that skill now, pushing everything down until her eyes were calm once more. Then she nodded at him. “But I’m holding you to that, Reid.”

“I’d expect no less.” He quipped.

He waited until she was at the edge of the building and then he started to move. He went to the first body, crouching down so that his back was to Emily, and he laid a hand over the wound there. What he did wasn’t exactly _healing_. He simply knit the skin of the wound closed once more. Then, over to the other body to do the same thing. Now when they were found there’d be no signs of a knife fight on them. Whatever damage the demons had done inside, that could be for the coroner to try and figure out. But no one would suspect foul play at first. A quick little flare of his grace, using a trick his father taught him, and his fingerprints were gone from the bodies. As he rose he acted as if he slipped his knife back into the back of his jacket, though in reality he waved it away and sent it back home.

When he turned back to Emily, the scene was as clean as he could make it. He met her eyes and they exchanged one small nod. Without a word, they set off back towards the crowds, and as they walked, Spencer could feel her eyes on him. Life was just getting more and more interesting. After so long keeping his secrets how was it that he seemed to be slipping left and right? He could at least count his blessings that Emily only thought he was a Hunter. As much as he loved his friends, too many people knew his other secret now anyways. This juggling act was starting to get a bit precarious. One wrong move and all the balls were going to come tumbling down. Where he’d be then, he had no idea.


	2. Chapter 2

The case seemed to wrap up surprisingly quickly after that. Without the demons’ protection, the Unsubs made mistakes. Those mistakes cost them in the end. One member of the pack was arrested while the other two chose to go down in a ‘blaze of glory’, preferring suicide-by-cop over the alternative. The BAU team knew that was how it was going to end. Spencer knew as soon as the word came that they had holed up somewhere. A quick look at his unit chief told Spencer that Aaron knew it as well. Years of working together also let Aaron know just what Spencer's opinion on a situation like that was. “Go home, Reid.” Aaron told him as he passed, briefly squeezing his shoulder before letting go. “Paperwork can wait until tomorrow.”

“Thank you, sir.” Spencer murmured. He didn’t protest, didn’t give Aaron a chance to change his mind or anyone else nearby a chance to say anything. Now that he had permission, he slipped away from everyone and hurried away. They didn’t need him here. Not with the way the cops were gunning for these Unsubs. There was no way that Spencer could see this ending well and one extra gun wasn’t going to make any difference here. He had no desire to get in his own shot, here. There were much better things he could be taking care of.

He sent off a text to Sam to let him know his ‘hunt’ was done. The reply came in within the half hour, just as Spencer had finished up with the bit of paperwork he’d decided to go ahead and do, letting him know that Sam and Dean were at a motel for the night with no other plans. That meant there was no more putting this off. Time to go out there and talk with the Winchesters. Spencer told Sam he’d be there in around forty five minutes, allowing time for him to get his car home, and he made sure to get Sam’s promise that Castiel wasn’t going to be around at all tonight.

Much as this conversation needed to happen, it wasn’t one that Spencer was looking forward to. There was a lot that he had to accomplish and his past few experiences with Dean gave him the feeling that this might not go that well. Somehow, in the course of one conversation, he had to find a way to convince Dean that he was trustworthy, that he wasn’t out to harm Bobby or Sam or any of them, that he wasn’t a threat to them or their cause, and that he really _did_ want to help stop the apocalypse. He had to get Dean to see him as a useful ally in this or they’d never be able to get Castiel on their side, according to Sam. He swore that the first step in getting Castiel okay with things was getting Dean okay with it all. Besides which, it would make Spencer's guarding of his charge much easier if he didn’t have to worry all the time about his charge’s brother wanting to kill him.

He worried about it through the drive home, trying to figure out what he could say to make this conversation go easier. What could he say to set Dean’s mind at ease? Spencer wasn’t exactly adept at making friends. Social situations weren’t something he excelled in and really, that’s all this was. He and Dean making ‘friends’. How was he supposed to manage that? This was too important to mess up. Spencer _needed_ this to work. If it didn’t, it would make life more difficult for Sam and, by extension, for Spencer as well. The young nephilim had committed himself to his charge and his charge’s cause. This was the first big step towards helping there.

There was no more time to worry about it. Spencer was home and he had no reasons left to put things off. Almost forty minutes exactly, just as he’d predicted, he flew away from his apartment and arrived at Dean and Sam’s motel room.

He took a moment to make sure that the boys were in the room and that there were no signs of their angel, not in the room and not close by, before he let himself land. The soft rustle of his wings was the only thing to herald his arrival. It was enough to alert Sam, who immediately looked up from where he was sitting stretched out on his bed. A smile curved his lips when he saw Spencer standing near the foot of his bed. “Hey, Spencer.”

Spencer ran his eyes over his charge, taking in his appearance with a small frown. Sam looked tired. His eyes held the pinched, slightly bruised look of someone who hadn’t been sleeping all that well, and there was a tension in him that Spencer was sure came from worry about this evenings plans. Bringing his eyes back up to Sam’s face, he half-glared at him. “You haven’t been sleeping well.” The words were more accusation than question. Sam had been trying to insist the nightmares weren’t that bad in their talks lately. Apparently Spencer was going to have to start second-guessing the younger Winchester. It would appear he was the type to say one thing and mean another when it came to his own health and care.

The smile that touched Sam’s lips was slightly amused, but mostly it seemed fond. “It’s not that bad.”

Arching an eyebrow at him, Spencer scoffed lightly just to make sure that Sam knew how little he believed that. He didn’t press, though. He wouldn’t have gotten the chance even if he’d wanted to. The bathroom door opened at that moment and Dean came walking out. The older Winchester froze the instant that he saw Spencer standing at the foot of Sam’s bed and a scowl twisted his face. Well, that answered that. It would appear that a little bit of time hadn’t really softened Dean’s opinion of him all that much. A little uncomfortable and extremely conscious of how important this all was, Spencer rocked back on his heels and lifted one hand to give a little wave. “Hi.”

“Great. You’re here.” Dean said dryly. He looked at Spencer for a moment before walking around him, heading over to the other bed. “Let’s get this over with. I’m tired and I’ve got some driving to do in the morning.”

“Dean…” Sam said, voice heavy with warning.

Spencer held one hand up towards Sam, cutting him off. “No, Sam, don’t try to censor him. He needs to say it.” Dropping his hand, Spencer hooked both hands in his pockets and stood tall, refusing to be cowed by the idea of Dean’s temper. “You and I didn’t exactly start off the greatest. You don’t like me.”

“I don’t know you well enough not to like you.” Dean said. He scooped up the weapons bag off the small table, dumping it down onto his bed, and Spencer had to fight not to roll his eyes at the man’s obvious intimidation tactics. Dean sat down beside the bag and looked up, green eyes dark and surprisingly open. “I don’t _trust_ you. I know Sam does, and for some reason Bobby does too, but I don’t.”

Spencer kept a lock on his own temper and nodded calmly at him. “I know. You think I’ve tricked Singer somehow and that I’m tricking Sam now.” At Dean’s surprised look, Spencer lifted a finger and tapped his own temple. “You project pretty loudly, Winchester.”

“Stay outta my head!”

“I just told you, you project pretty loudly. I’m not _trying_ to listen in.” Something came to him and he paused, tipping his head to the side as he thought about it. A soft ‘hmm’ built in his throat. “I’m usually rather good at shutting people out. Maybe it’s because you’re so closely connected to Sam and I’m, well, _tuned in_ to him, so to speak.” It would make sense. Sam and Dean’s souls were so closely twined together that it wasn’t that big of a leap to think that he would have an easier time hearing and sensing Dean _through_ Sam. He filed that thought away as something to think about later and brought his attention back to the present. There were more important things to deal with now. He focused back on Dean again and brought himself back on topic. “Anyways, as I was saying, you seem to think I’ve got some trick going here. A long standing con. I can’t force you to change your mind. However, I might be able to _ease_ your mind a little. Would you like to know how Singer and I met? I doubt he told you.”

It wasn’t just Dean who sat up at that. Sam sat up a little straighter as well. Spencer found himself pinned by twin stares, equal in their intensity, and he had to admit that he’d be cowering a little if he hadn’t been around more intense glares every day since he joined the Bureau. These guys didn’t hold a candle to an intense Hotch stare when the Unit Chief was trying to figure something out. Not to mention the way that Gideon had of looking at you that left you feeling like he’d seen every single secret you’d ever held close.

“Bobby told us it was your story to tell.” Sam said.

That sounded just like Bobby. Overprotective old coot. A fond smile graced Spencer's lips. “He would say that. Singer’s an honorable man. One of the most honorable I’ve ever met.” This wasn’t a favorite story of Spencer's to tell. It was one he wasn’t all that fond of and that wasn’t easy to get out. Waving a hand towards the table, he conjured up three glasses and a bottle of scotch. “If we’re going to do this, we might as well do it right.” He said with a shrug.

When he took his seat, he wasn’t surprised that Sam was already rising to join him. What did surprise him was that Dean was coming over as well. The two men took the other two seats, putting them right across from him. Spencer leaned in and took the bottle, filling up the three glasses.

Sam took the glass that Spencer poured without issue. Dean hesitated for just a split second, then seemed to firm his resolve. He took the glass and almost defiantly took a drink, like he was daring Spencer to have done something to it. Spencer just arched an eyebrow at him before shaking his head. He poured a generous helping into his own glass and then sat back in his chair once more. He looked down at the drink in his glass and let his mind drift back over the years. “It’s kind of a cliché.” He told them. Taking a small drink, he let it burn down his throat to warm his gut. “Singer saved my life. In a massive way.”

“What happened?” Sam asked quietly.

Twirling his glass in his hand, Spencer tried to think of where to start. “On a hunt.” He finally settled on. “I was in college at the time and we were just coming up on spring break when I caught wind of demon activity. Not exactly all that common back then. Demon sightings were kind of rare. I should’ve called in my Dad for some help on it, but I was young and cocky. I was fifteen and pretty eager to prove myself.”

“Wait a second, wait a second.” Dean interrupted, holding a hand out. He was looking at Spencer incredulously. “You were fifteen and in _college_?”

Spencer nodded. “I graduated high school when I was twelve and started college just before I turned fourteen.” He ignored their surprised look, not even really registering it, and continued on with his story. “I tracked the demons and finally pinned them down to a place just outside LA. I thought I had them but I messed up, didn’t realize just how many of them there were, and I got caught. They knocked me out cold. When I came to, they had locked up tight in this circle they’d made. They had no idea what I was, but they knew I wasn’t human so they’d put pretty much anything they could think of to try and hold me.” Pausing, he shrugged a shoulder, pushing back the memories of waking up on the cold floor with his body aching and his grace distressingly low. He still had nightmares about that sometimes. “They just happened to get one of their things right, only not the way they thought. It wasn’t enough to trap me in there but it was enough to make me weak. It suppressed my grace enough that I was mostly human and just about powerless. The concussion didn’t really help, either. Neither did the ‘interrogation’ that came next. They wanted to know who I was and what I was doing around there.”

He could tell by the way Dean scowled and Sam winced that both of them knew just what a demon interrogation could be like.

“They’d worked me over pretty badly by the time that Bobby burst in.” Spencer continued on. He lifted his glass and downed the last bit in there like a shot. The burn eased away the lump that had been trying to build in his throat and allowed him to keep going. “I don’t remember a whole lot of that part and, honestly, I wouldn’t tell you if I did. I just know that one moment I was hurting worse than I’d ever been hurt before, terrified that all their questions and little tests were going to reveal who I was, and the next moment there were shouts and crashes and someone chanting something. Then someone was right in front of me, telling me it was going to be okay, right before I passed out.”

“Bobby.” Sam murmured.

“Singer.” Spencer agreed. He reached out, picking up the bottle and pouring himself another glass. The hardest part of the story was done now and the rest wasn’t too hard to tell. He sat back in his chair much easier than before and actually managed a small smile. “He cleaned me up while I was unconscious. Treated my injuries, bandaged me up the best he could with what he had. He kept me in the circle, of course. He’s not an idiot. But he brought blankets in there and made sure I was comfortable. When I woke up again, I was patched up, swaddled in blankets, and Bobby was sitting just outside the circle. We talked for a good hour, he and I. I wouldn’t tell him who or what I was, either, just that my name was Spencer and that I was _something_.”

“You’re not really convincing me here that you didn’t do something.” Dean said, kicking back in his chair. He crossed his legs, one ankle resting on the opposite knee, and took a drink from his glass. “Cause I can’t see any reason Bobby would’ve let you out of that circle.”

Sam scowled over at his brother. “Dean…”

“What?” Dean scowled right back at him. “You know it’s true, Sammy, so don’t give me that look.”

Shaking his head at the two of them, Spencer couldn’t help but wonder how these two got any work done if they were always bickering like this. They had to be able to put it aside sometimes or else they’d learned how to work around it. After all, they had the best reputation in the hunter community. Spencer chose to ignore their bickering for the moment; not like there was any real malice behind it. A touch of anger, yes, and a slightly strained edge, but they were still working on fixing things after their separation and they were in the middle of the freaking apocalypse. Who wouldn’t be stressed? So long as it didn’t get seriously angry, Spencer was content to ignore it. “Singer let me out…” He started out with a raised voice, just loud enough to override their argument, and lowered his voice again when they looked over at him. “…because he said that killing children wasn’t what he signed up for and I wasn’t hurting anyone. But he swore he’d hunt me down personally the minute he got wind of anything even suggesting that I was going to cause harm.”

The two Winchesters looked completely surprised by that. Spencer understood; it wasn’t exactly something that seemed in character for the surly old hunter. Well, part of it. He wasn’t really the type to promote releasing supernatural creatures. But he also wasn’t the type to hurt children. And at the time, Spencer had been a child. He might’ve been fifteen, which was still young, but he knew he’d looked closer to twelve. When faced with someone so young, obviously hurt, Bobby hadn’t been able to pull the trigger. Spencer didn’t consider that a fault. It was one of the things that had showed Spencer the man’s character and which had spurred him to seek him out again later on. When Spencer had realized that having connections in the hunting community might be a good idea, there had been only one person he could think of. That was a decision he’d never regretted.

Spencer could see that his story had left the boys with quite a lot to think about. Surprisingly enough, Dean was actually quite, his expression thoughtful, and Spencer took that as a positive sign. He wasn’t just grumbling and dismissing Spencer outright. Taking advantage of that, he pressed his point home, leaning forward and letting his earnestness slip into his voice. “Look, I didn’t tell you this story because I thought it would magically make you trust me. I told you so that you can at least trust the relationship I have with Bobby. I told you so that you could know a bit more about me. But I know that any trust between us is going to have to be earned. You have to give me the chance to earn it, though.”

“Why is this so important to you?” Dean asked him seriously.

The question was a good one. Still, Spencer couldn’t help himself, the corner of his mouth twitching up. “Wanting to stop the apocalypse isn’t enough?”

“That’s not the only reason you’re here.”

“No, it’s not.” Perceptive little bugger. Spencer drew his legs up, tucking his feet underneath him in the small chair, and he folded his hands down into his lap. The look he lifted to Dean was more open and honest than it had been since he’d met the man. Time to lay some of his cards out on the table. “I have people I want to protect, one of which is your brother. I took Sam on as my charge, Winchester. I will do everything in my power to protect him. That means that, whether you like it or not, I’m going to be around. It’d be a lot easier on all of us if you and I weren’t constantly at each other’s throats.”

Dean scowled at his blunt words. “Do I get a choice in this?” He snapped.

“Of course you do.” Sam rushed to reassure him. He shot Spencer a warning look before turning back to Dean. “He just wants to help, Dean, and right now I think we could use all the allies we can get. I’m not asking you to try and be best friends with him…”

“Yeah, that aint happening.” Dean said with a snort.

Sam continued on as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “…but it’d be stupid to turn down the kind of help he could provide. If we’re gonna fight the devil, we can use all the allies we can get. Especially powerful ones.”

The room went quiet for a moment as Dean processed their words. Spencer watched his face and he could see the thoughts passing through there. He could hear them, too, if he wasn’t careful. That was one thing that Spencer planned to put on his list of things—teaching these boys ways to shelter their mind a little. Or, at least, to not think so damn _loud_.

He was blocking their thoughts but their feelings were coming through clear enough and Spencer easily picked up on them. When he realized what some of them meant, he started to unfold himself from the chair. Immediately two sets of eyes turned to him. Spencer smiled and gestured for them to stay seated while he rose. “I just need to use the restroom, that’s all. I’ll be right back.” That should give them enough time to quietly talk this out between them. Spencer shut himself in the bathroom and almost instantly low voices started out in the main room. The two of them needed a moment to talk about things; Spencer understood that. Hopefully this would be enough time for them to at least come to some sort of decision.

When he’d come out here, it hadn’t been with the intention of telling them that particular story. But he couldn’t deny that they had the right to know. And if it helped Dean realize that he wasn’t running some kind of con on Bobby—as if he would do anything like that!—all the better.

His phone buzzed in his pocket and startled him out of his thoughts. Pulling it out, he couldn’t help but grimace when he saw who it was that was calling. A quick press of a button had the phone going quiet. Right now wasn’t the best time for phone calls and it definitely wasn’t the best time to be talking with Emily. Doubtless she wanted to get together. After what happened, she most likely had a ton of questions, and Spencer knew she deserved answers. He just wasn’t ready to give them yet. One crisis at a time, thank you very much.

Spencer went ahead and made use of the facilities while he was in there. When he walked out of the room a few minutes later, it looked like his excuse had given the boys just enough time. Their emotions were much calmer and their thoughts weren’t screaming quite so loudly anymore. They both still sat at the table, though their bodies had turned toward one another, and their body language was at least somewhat relaxed. Dean, however, looked just slightly uncomfortable, like he was somewhere he’d rather not be, doing something he’d rather not be doing. Emotional talks were definitely not his thing. In that aspect, he reminded Spencer a whole lot of Bobby. With that in mind, Spencer treated this as he would’ve if it were Bobby here. He folded himself down onto the foot of the bed nearest the boys and smirked at them. “Did you guys figure things out if I can join your club yet, or should I go back and hide in the bathroom a little longer?”

That earned him a snort from Dean and an amused look from Sam. “Welcome to the club, Spencer.” Sam said, smiling.

“On a trial basis.” Dean amended. “I don’t trust you yet.”

Spencer shrugged one shoulder. “I don’t trust you yet, either, so we’re pretty even there.”

“Wait, what?” Dean sat up straight, instantly on the defensive. He looked almost offended.

“Things haven’t exactly gone smoothly between us since we met, Winchester. You’ve made no secret about the fact that you don’t like nor trust me. What about that behavior would inspire me to trust you?” Spencer pointed out. “Besides which, you’re a Hunter, and creatures like me aren’t exactly on friendly terms with Hunters. My friendships with Bobby, and now Sam, aren’t exactly typical.”

The scowl on Dean’s face deepened. “If you don’t trust me, what’re you doing here letting me in on your little secrets?”

“Because Sam trusts you and I trust Sam.” Spencer said. To him, it was that simple, that easy. The way that Sam lit up because of that made Spencer glad that he’d said it. He could see the surprise and pleasure on Sam’s face. Had the man really not realized that Spencer trusted him? Then again, Sam probably thought _no one_ trusted him right now. No matter the pretty words that Spencer threw at him, no matter how he tried to convince the man that he was on his side, it was going to take time to prove it. Sam may’ve been doing better than he’d been a week ago but he wasn’t magically better. The guilt was still there and the self-loathing that made Spencer's stomach ache for him. Only time and a lot of effort would fix those. Spencer promised himself to make a point of doing or saying things to continue to remind Sam that he had Spencer in his corner no matter what else happened. Eventually he’d convince the man that he wasn’t going to chase Spencer away.

Before Dean could comment on Spencer's words—and he could see the urge there, _hear_ the teasing edge of some rather nasty comments flirting around Dean’s mind that would hurt Sam if they were said out loud—Spencer clapped his hands together and pushed up to his feet. “Well! As much of a pleasure as this has been, I better get out of here before your angel comes back. I think one revelation is enough for this night, don’t you?”

“You don’t have to rush out, Spencer.” Sam said instantly.

Spencer smiled at him and shook his head. “It’s okay. I’ve got paperwork to do, anyways. My boss let me out early today, so I brought a few files home with me.”

“Your boss? You have a _job_?” Dean asked, surprised.

“Of course I have a job.” Spencer rolled his eyes. What did he think Spencer did? Just flit around the world all day long? “I live a human life, Winchester. I need a job to pay for things.”

Before Dean could say anything else, Sam asked “What do you do?” He looked honestly curious as he tilted his face up towards Spencer.

He’d wondered when this topic might come up. There really was no telling how they’d react to this. But Spencer's playful side was insisting that their reaction was probably going to be amusing. “In a way, you could say that I’m a hunter.” He told them. He debated a few different ways of explaining before deciding on the one that tickled his humor the most. Reaching down into his pocket, he pulled out his ever present set of credentials and held them up. “SSA Dr. Spencer Reid, Behavioral Analysis Unit.”

Oh, it was everything he could’ve wanted. Sam looked like someone had slapped him and Dean’s eyes were practically bugging out of his head. Delighted laughter tumbled past Spencer's lips. He flipped his credentials closed and used them to give a mock salute. “Call me if you need me, Winchesters.” And with a rustle of feathers, he was gone, leaving them gaping after him.


	3. Chapter 3

Though he knew it wouldn’t work in the end, it didn’t stop Spencer from trying to avoid Emily for the next few days. The last thing he wanted to do was sit down and have the talk with her that he knew was coming. One, it felt strange, the idea of talking about the supernatural world with anyone from his work, especially with how hard he’d fought so far to make sure that these two parts of his life remained separate. Two, he really didn’t like lying to any of his friends, no matter how many times he’d had to do it over the years, and a big part of his conversation with Emily was going to be lies. Lies of omission, true, yet those were still lies. He didn’t want to do it. However, the alternative would be letting yet _another_ person know his secret and he just couldn’t do that. Too many people knew already. It was starting to make Spencer feel exposed. With all the angels that were either on or watching earth right now, it really was the worst time to be making these kinds of reveals. Yet the reason they were here was the whole reason he was being forced into telling, anyways.

There was only so long she was willing to be put off, though. Three days after that meeting with Sam and Dean, once the case here at the BAU was officially closed and all paperwork done, Emily finally cornered him.

She was smart and didn’t bother trying to do it at work. He was pretty adept at avoiding her there. No, she went a more direct route. With her usual courage she simply came straight to his apartment—which, he hadn’t even known that she had any idea where he lived!—and knocked on the door. Once he opened it and found her standing there smirking at him, what was he supposed to do? Shut the door in her face? He’d been raised a lot better than that.

The sigh he let out only made her smirk grow. Resigned to it, Spencer stepped back, holding his door open wide. “Emily, what a pleasant surprise. Please, won’t you come in?”

The sarcastic tone made Emily laugh. “Thanks, Reid.”

She strolled in like she’d been here countless times before and went straight into the living room. Spencer took a moment while shutting his door to give a few more mental curses. When he turned around, his expression was composed once more. His body language was completely and deliberately calm when he joined her in the living room. Manners had him asking her “Would you like anything to drink? I’ve water boiled for tea, or I’ve got some rather good scotch. If I remember right, you’re partial to that.”

“I’m good, Reid, thanks.” She declined politely. The humor in her smile had softened into something friendlier, more relaxed. “Are you always this formal with guests, or did I throw you off that much by showing up?”

Well, if she was going to be this blunt, he might as well do the same. “A bit of both.” Moving over to the chaise lounge where he’d been curled up researching before she’d knocked, he settled back into his same spot, gesturing towards the couch opposite him. “Please, have a seat. You might as well be comfortable for your ambush.”

“I wouldn’t have had to ambush you if you hadn’t been avoiding me.”

Spencer leaned back against the corner of his seat and stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle. He picked up his mug of tea and cradled it between his hands as he watched her settle down onto the couch. She slipped her shoes off and, at his small nod, drew her feet up onto the couch, making a show of getting comfortable. It was her way of letting him know that she wasn’t leaving here until she got answers. The silent language had Spencer shaking his head. Being profilers, the team had a tendency to convey a lot of conversation to one another with gestures and body language. Little things that they all did without even thinking about it sometimes. Spencer had only noticed it after he’d heard one of the other agents talking in the bullpen one day. They’d been commenting on how hard it was to follow conversation with Hotchner’s team because, “You gotta pay attention to what they don’t say just as much as what they do. It’s like trying to keep up on a conversation that’s in English, French, German, and sign language, all at the same time.”

The look that Spencer gave his friend now was another of those speaking gestures. The clam expression, the raised eyebrows, clearly telling her that he wasn’t going to be intimidated by this, nor was he going to make it exactly easy. She wanted to have this conversation than she could be the one to start it.

Amused, Emily shook her head. “You know, I’m not going to judge you for what you tell me, Reid. Like I told you back at the crime scene, you’re not the first Hunter I’ve met.”

“That’s not as reassuring as you think it is. Nor does it really tell me much of anything, other than the fact that you’ve at least been somewhat introduced to the supernatural world. Enough to recognize demons, at least.”

“The black eyes made it pretty easy.” She quipped.

He couldn’t quite resist snorting at that. Yeah, that was a petty dead giveaway to humans. He was grateful that his heritage allowed him a bit better skill than that. The black eyes weren’t always visible, hence their ability to blend so well. When you could see the true face hidden behind the meat suit, it was a bit easier to separate someone possessed from the rest of the crowd.

Apparently she took his silence as a request to talk. She adjusted a little in her seat, hands folding down to her lap so that she could fiddle with the ring she wore, a habit she indulged in during those rare moments where she actually opened up and spoke about herself. “My nanny when I was younger knew about the supernatural. She told it to me as stories when I was a little girl, because I always enjoyed them. They never sacred me. It wasn’t until I was older and living over in London that I finally met an actual Hunter. He was hunting a vampire.” She trailed off and a small shiver ran down her.

Spencer felt his eyes go wide. Before he could think about his words, he breathed out “You were the victim, weren’t you.”

To her credit, she didn’t flinch, though he could tell she wanted to. Her distress was strong enough that he could feel it rolling off her. But she kept it locked down and didn’t let any of it show on her body. “I’ve still got the scar on my thigh where it…fed.” She swallowed, visibly gathering her control, and Spencer extended just a small hint of grace to help soothe her down. Not enough for her to realize what he was doing, but enough that she relaxed, some of her tension draining away and her words coming easier. “The Hunter rescued me, cleaned me up, got me to safety, and basically let me know that all the stories my Nanny had told me were real. I’ve only met two other Hunters since then, but I’ve done some research over the years and I’ve seen some cases sometimes at the Bureau that made me wonder.”

“The crossover between a Hunter’s job and ours isn’t as common as you’d think.” Spencer said with a sigh. “If there’s enough for it to be considered a serial, it’s usually enough to draw the attention of Hunters, too, and they take care of it long before we get there. You know how hard it is for locals to even think about calling us in, anyways. That little gap of time makes it easier for a Hunter to get in and get the job done.”

“And when they don’t? I take it the other night wasn’t the first time you’ve stepped in for us.”

He shrugged his shoulders and took a drink off of his tea to give himself a moment. The way she’d said that left him feeling kind of flustered. She said it like it was a big deal. “It’s not like I can just step back when I know what’s going on.”

“How long have you known?”

“My whole life.” There had never been a moment that he hadn’t known. Even before he’d known the words to put to things, before he’d realized that some of those supernatural things were dangerous, he’d always know about things. It helped that he was one of those ‘things’.

Surprise lit Emily’s eyes. “Really? Are your…were your parents Hunters?”

He shook his head automatically. “No, no. I don’t know how much Mom knows, but she’s not a Hunter, and neither is Dad. I had…another relative who taught me. He’s the one who taught me what I know about things so that I could be prepared and be safe.”

“How do you do it?” There was a sense of what almost felt like wonder in Emily’s question. She looked earnestly at him, like this was important to her, something that she just couldn’t figure out on her own. “The guy I saw back in the alley is completely different from the guy I’ve worked with these past couple years. I’ve never seen you move like that. No offense, Reid, but I didn’t know you _could_. You’ve never come off that…”

“Athletic?” He supplied, lips twitching with a smile. “Agile? Coordinated? Capable of moving without tripping over everything in sight and splitting my head open?” Pausing to let her laugh, he smiled. “I’ve always been just as coordinated as I need to be when the situation called for it. True, there were some skills that I haven’t showed at the Bureau. The people there have no idea just what I’m capable of, physically. But when I was younger I learned the hard way that people tend to ask questions when someone looks like I do and yet has those skills. People see me and they see a nerd. A brain. They don’t see someone capable of doing pretty much anything physical. So, I learned to downplay it, to mask my skills so that no one would ask questions. It’s easier than trying to explain why I could fire a shotgun, but not a handgun, or why I could handle myself in a knife fight or take down someone in close quarters combat.” Besides which, and most importantly of all, it was hard for him to hide that there was something different about him when he let himself move like that. When he fought, his movements tended to be too fast, too fluid, and too strong, with all the natural grace and strength that angels show. That, more than anything else, made humans ask questions, and Spencer had learned to not let it be seen unless absolutely necessary. But in trying to suppress his natural movements, it tended to make him a little more on the clumsy side. Though he could admit that he tended to get naturally clumsy when his brain engaged. He’d been tease about that more than once in life.

“It’s got to be hard, living two lives like this.” Emily said softly.

She had no idea how true her words were. Spencer dropped his eyes down to the book that he’d been looking at before she arrived, idly running his eyes over the page so he could avoid looking over at her. He shrugged one shoulder. “You do what’s necessary when you have to.”

The room fell quiet for a moment. The two were saved from it getting uncomfortably quiet by the ringing of Spencer's cell phone. He grabbed at it gratefully and answered it without even glancing down at the screen. “Hello?”

“ _Hey, mutt._ ” Bobby’s gruff voice came down the line, warm and friendly, and it almost instantly set Spencer on edge. Had something happened? Was everyone okay? He hadn’t felt anything that would suggest that Sam had been hurt. When he’d checked on the boys earlier, they’d been fine.

Spencer sat up a little straighter in his seat and fixed his attention fully on the phone. “Hey, Singer. Is everything all right?”

Despite his best efforts his tone was still a little sharper than normal and Bobby obviously picked up on it. His answer came quickly, a hurried reassurance. “ _Everyone’s fine, kid, calm down. This aint a trouble call._ ”

Forgetting for a moment about his audience, Spencer replied as he would’ve if he were alone, his voice heavy with sly humor. “A pleasure call, then? Why, Singer…”

Emily let out a delighted laugh at the same time that Bobby growled to cut him off. “ _Get your mind outta the gutter! I’m old enough to be your father, y’idjit. It’s a_ business _call._ ”

“Business.” That took away some of Spencer's teasing, though not much. He shifted around in his seat until he could cross his legs under him and then he reached out to set his mug down on the table. As he did, he saw Emily rising from the couch, her shoes already back on her feet. She made a gesture at the door and then smiled and gave him a small wave. He smiled back and mouthed ‘thank you’. As she walked away, he pulled his attention back to his phone. “What’ve you got for me, Singer?”

“ _I think I got that book you were looking for. A friend of mine thought they knew something like it, so I had em drop it off on their way through town. Thought you might like to head on out here and take a look.”_

Now that had Spencer's attention. He’d asked Bobby to keep an eye out for a book that he’d seen once before that was all about dreams and charms. It was old, older than a good ninety percent of the books in Bobby’s collection, and he thought it might have something in there that could help him ward Sam’s dreams against Lucifer for good. Spencer eagerly pushed up off his chaise lounge and, with a thought, did up both the locks on his front door. In the next breath, he was in the middle of Bobby’s living room, looking across the desk at his suddenly wide-eyed friend.

Grinning, Spencer snapped his phone shut and pushed it into his pocket. “All right, Singer. Let’s have a look at that book.”

Bobby shook his head and set his phone down. “Idjit.” He grumbled under his breath. He never was fond of Spencer just popping in. It always startled him. Still, he picked up a book off his desk and tossed it to Spencer, who caught it quickly, fumbling only a little in surprise. He shot Bobby a mock glare and got one in return. With a roll of his eyes, Spencer took the book to the couch and folded himself down, immediately opening it to the first page. He knew Bobby was one of the few people well used to his reading speed so he didn’t bother trying to hide it or slow it down. He just scanned through page after page in hopes of finding what he needed.

Their friendship was strong enough that neither felt any real need to talk. Spencer read through his book while Bobby continued on with whatever it was he’d been doing before he decided to call Spencer. Translating, it looked like, when Spencer snuck a glance up. Other than the turning of pages or the sound of a pen scratching across paper, the room was silent.

It took ten minutes for Spencer to find the page that he needed. When he did, he made an excited sound, his whole face lighting up. There it was! He’d been right. There _was_ something he could do.

“What’s got you all lit up over there, mutt?” Bobby asked him.

Spencer looked up and beamed at his friend. “I knew I was right. There’s something in here I can do to create a talisman that’ll protect Sam’s dreams so that Lucifer can’t get in there.” Now…did he have all the ingredients? He ran down the list and mentally catalogued what he already had and what he would need to get. A wave of the hand brought the ingredients that he already had to the edge of Bobby’s desk that was clear. As for the rest… “Singer, how’s your herb stash?”

CXCX

It took most of the night for Spencer to make the talisman. There was some traveling required to get a few of the ingredients that neither one of their extensive stores carried. Even then, it was only the start of it. Some of it had to set, which meant that he had to leave it at Bobby’s with express orders not to touch it while he went to work the next day. But once the work day was done, he went straight back to Bobby’s and finished off the last of the spell that was laid on it. When he finished he was left with a metal disc the that fit easily in the palm of his hand. The talisman was cool to the touch now, though it had burned hot only moments ago as Spencer had finished carving in the last protective sigil that bound it all together. He looked down at his work and smiled proudly. “There. It’s perfect.”

“That thing’s gonna keep Sam’s dreams devil-free?” Bobby asked, eyeing the little disc.

Spencer nodded at him. “With everything I put on here, no one’s stepping into his dreams.”

“Are you sure it’s safe for him to have?” Bobby held up a hand when he saw the offended look on Spencer's face. “I don’t mean for him, mutt. I meant for you. You sure it’s safe to give him something that’s got your blood in it? Nephilim blood is a pretty powerful thing to have.”

“It’ll be fine, Singer. It’s so tied into everything else, no one’s going to be able to recognize it, and there’s no way for anyone to extract it from there and use it against me. It’s as safe as I can make it.”

That seemed to satisfy the man. He gave a nod of his head. “Good. Then why don’t you get on outta here and go give the boy his gift before he heads to bed tonight? I’m sure he’s eager for a good night’s sleep.”

He had a point. It was getting late and there was no telling where the boys were at today or how late it was for them. Spencer pulled out his cell phone and quickly sent a text off to Sam. It only took a minute before he got a reply with an address to let him know where they were. Spencer nodded and put the phone back in his pocket. Then he looked once more to Bobby. “Thank you again for your help, Singer. I’m sure Sam’s going to appreciate it.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Bobby waved a hand at him, brushing away his words. “Get outta here, kid. Bout time I got back to work anyways.”

Some things would never change. Laughing lightly, Spencer said nothing more in the way of thanks, just gave a small wave and then he was gone.

CXCX

When he appeared in the boys’ motel room, he found them both sitting on their beds. A quick check before he’d come in had showed him that the coast was clear. Spencer vaguely acknowledged in the back of his mind that they had better finally figure out how to tell the resident angel about him before something happened one of these times and he ended up flying in without checking first. The last thing they needed was for that to happen. There was no telling what might happen. That was a thought for a different time, though. Right now, Spencer had a delivery to make.

Dean startled at his entrance, which made Spencer chuckle, growling out a “Dammit, Spencer! Don’t you know how to knock?”

Sam, however, tilted his book down like it was nothing and looked up at Spencer and smiled in greeting. “Hey, Spencer.”

“Hello, Winchesters.” Spencer greeted, meeting Dean’s glare with a smirk. He turned his eyes back to Sam and pulled the talisman out of his pocket, tossing it his direction. Sam’s good reflexes had him catching it without any trouble. “Here’s a gift for you, Sam. I figured you might like to have it before you went to sleep.”

He’d attached a leather throng to it before he’d left Bobby’s place. Sam held it up, looking it over curiously, until Spencer's words sank in. Then his gaze snapped up once more and locked on the young genius. “Wait, you mean…”

“Mm hmm.” Spencer's smile grew. “You make sure to wear that to bed each night and Lucifer won’t be getting into any more of your dreams. Bobby and I just finished that about five minutes ago.”

“Bobby helped you make that?” Dean asked.

It wasn’t hard to figure out why Dean was asking. He may have agreed to work with Spencer but it didn’t mean that he trusted him. Having his brother wear some strange talisman that Spencer said would keep the devil out was obviously something that sat on his list of things to be suspicious of. Hearing that Bobby had been a part of its making made it a little easier for the hunter to believe that this might actually be something good. Something he could trust. Knowing all that, understanding it, Spencer kept his sarcasm to himself. “Yes. He had half the ingredients that I needed, so we worked together to make this. There’s nothing in there that will harm either one of you. All it’ll do is make sure that your dreams stay your own. It doesn’t block from bad dreams, though.” Spencer warned him, catching Sam’s eye to make sure he understood. “This is just to keep anyone from entering your dreams.”

“Hey, that’s plenty enough for me.” Sam said fervently. He lifted the cord and slipped the necklace on, giving the talisman one last look before tucking it under his shirt. When he looked up again, there was such gratitude on his face it left Spencer a little flustered. “Thank you, Spencer.”

Embarrassed, Spencer shrugged one shoulder and stuffed his hands down into his pockets. “It was no problem. I told you I’d find a way to keep him out of your dreams.”

To his surprise, Dean cleared his throat and then said “Still, man, we appreciate it. So…thanks.”

The stilted ‘thanks’ flustered Spencer almost as much as it did Dean and the two of them both looked uncomfortably away from one another, eyes going anywhere but to the other person, much to Sam’s amusement. “You’re welcome.” Spencer mumbled. Behind him, he felt his wings draw up, the equivalent of a human ducking their head down to try and hide their embarrassment. Being the center of attention or receiving compliments had never been Spencer's strong suit. He bit on his lip and rocked back on his heels. “Well…this has become awkward.” He finally said, startling a laugh out of both brothers. “You two look like you were preparing for bed anyways, so I’m just going to go on home and get some sleep of my own before this night gets any more uncomfortable. You two both know how to reach me if you need me.” And with a small breeze left in his wake, Spencer was gone, leaving the brothers staring at the space he’d been just seconds before.

It was Dean who broke the silence with a snort and a shake of his head. “Dude, your angel’s weird.”

“And Cas isn’t?” Sam pointed out as he picked his book back up.

Chuckling, Dean laid back on his bed. “Touché, little brother. Touché.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Later on, this will have some direct quotes from The Children Are Our Future. I couldn’t write the scene without those quotes. But, as I’m adding Spencer to the mix, please understand that there are going to be parts that go quite differently, okay? Okay. Thanks, folks!*

It had only been a few days since Spencer had last saw the brothers when a prayer from Sam called him back to them. The prayer came through in early afternoon during a slow day of paperwork. Spencer was fiddling with his pen, trying to think of a way to stretch out what little work he had left so that he wouldn’t be completely and utterly bored for the next few hours. The bullpen was far more boring since Derek had moved into his office. There was no more deep laughter, no more paper clips and paper balls and random pencils that came flying at Spencer at random moments solely to irritate or distract him. There was just him and Emily and the bunch of other people who worked in here. Spencer hadn’t realized just how used to Derek’s chaos he’d gotten until it had disappeared. He contemplated gathering up the two folders he had left; he knew Derek would have no issue with him coming in and working quietly in there.

Once or twice Spencer had done it already. Derek never asked for a reason why when Spencer showed up, smiling shyly and looking kind of pitiful in his doorway. He just let him in and the two would work in companionable silence. It was perfect. Derek didn’t ask and Spencer didn’t have to lie. There was no way he could tell his friend that he was a half-angel who was feeling the emotions of his teammates because he’d spent so long around them that he was pretty in tune with their thoughts and feelings, and Aaron’s emotions were a nauseating swirl ever since the Reaper, ever since Hayley and Jack had gone into protective custody. Spencer could tell him all of that. So he was grateful that Derek never asked, just let him in, let him take the break, and Spencer was content with letting Derek think what he wanted.

However, before he could decide to go back there or not, he felt the tingle in his grace that let him know he was being prayed to. He bowed his head down over his desk like he was looking at the folder there and turned his attention inward, focusing on the sound of Sam’s voice.

“ _So hey, Spencer, this is a bit much to text so I thought I’d pray to you. I hope I’m not disturbing you at work or anything important like that. But we’ve got a case that’s, well—it’s a weird one. We don’t really know what to think. We’ve got this circle of weird crap happening and at the center of it is this little boy. Right now we’re getting ready to go and talk with his birth mother and I think maybe we could use an extra set of eyes and ears. So, you know, if you’ve got the time, it’d be great. If not, maybe just text and let me know? Thanks, man. Amen._ ”

Spencer was already moving even as Sam uttered his ‘amen’. He kept hold of that small link that the prayer had given him and made his way out of the bullpen and down towards Derek’s office. A quick rap of his knuckles against the door and then he was poking his head in. Luckily, Derek was alone, doing paperwork at his desk. He looked up at the sound of the knock, smiling when he saw who was there. “Hey, Reid.”

“Hey, Morgan.” Biting on his bottom lip, Spencer pushed the door open and stepped into the room. He’d thought on his way over here and there was only one way he could think of to make this work. “Do you have a minute?”

“Yeah, of course. What’s up?”

“Do you guys need me for anything this afternoon?”

His question surprised Derek. Sitting back, the other man gave him a more serious look, his attention fully on Spencer. “No, not that I can think of. Today was just meant for paperwork and I bet you’ve already finished that. Why? Is everything okay, Reid?”

Spencer tried to give Derek a reassuring smile. “I’m fine. It’s just a friend of mine. He’s having a bit of an emergency and he needs a bit of a hand. I was hoping it would be okay to take off a bit early today and go help him.”

It was rare for Spencer to ask for a favor like this. He’d never really done it before and Derek knew that. Usually, Aaron had to fight to get Spencer to go home, even when he was injured. He wasn’t the type of person to just ask to take the afternoon off without a very good reason behind that. Knowing that and knowing his friend the way that he did, it wasn’t hard for Derek to make his decision. “Yeah, Reid, of course.” He didn’t press Spencer, didn’t ask what was going on. That wasn’t his business and he trusted Spencer. “Is there anything I can do?”

“No, thank you.” Spencer said. “I appreciate this, Morgan.”

“Of course, kid.”

Spencer took it as a sign of their friendship and trust that Derek said nothing more, just nodded at him and let him go, knowing that Spencer wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t need this and trusting that it was something important. There weren’t many out there that would do that. There were few friends in Spencer's life that he counted as close to him as he did Derek, especially considering all the things that Derek didn’t know. It made it all the harder to hide things from him and all the more uncomfortable, too. But it made Spencer want to protect him even more.

CXCX

Not even five minutes later found Spencer landing in the backseat of the Impala. He couldn’t help but chuckle when he looked in the front and saw that both the boys were there, dressed up in cheap suits. “I take it this is your FBI agent look.”

The car gave a quick jerk and curses filled the air. Spencer sat perfectly still and watched Dean with one eyebrow raised as the older hunter tried to straighten his car back out. The curses that he was using were rather inventive. He had to give him credit for his creativity. Though…that last one wasn’t exactly anatomically possible. Spencer refrained from pointing that out. Something told him that wouldn’t go over all that well. Instead, he opted to wait, keeping quiet as Dean finally got the car straight in his lane once more and his cursing stopped. The older hunter glanced over his shoulder and glared furiously at Spencer. “Dammit, don’t _do_ that!” he snarled.

Spencer tipped his head to the side and looked at him curiously before turning to look at Sam, who seemed to be battling back a smile. “Is he always this twitchy?” He asked, gesturing at Dean with his thumb.

“Pretty much.” Sam said, grinning.

At the same time, Dean was loudly growling out “I am _not_ twitchy!” He shot a scowl at Spencer through the rearview mirror. “It’s not exactly normal to have random freaking people appearing in the backseat of my car!”

“Do you not let your boyfriend ride in the car?” Spencer asked as innocently as he could manage. “That’s pretty rude, Winchester. I thought better of you.”

It was rather satisfying to watch the way that Dean’s cheeks heated and he started to sputter and stammer. “What? Dude, no, he’s not…Cas isn’t my boyfriend!”

Smile stretching wide, Spencer raised both eyebrows. “I never said who I was talking about. Funny, though, that you immediately assumed I meant Castiel.” He watched as Dean’s blush grew deeper and it made him laugh.

The situation was saved from progressing any further by Sam playing peacemaker. He twisted in his seat enough to look at Spencer and firmly brought their conversation on topic. “I appreciate you coming, Spencer. This whole case has been strange from start to finish. I think having a different perspective might really help us out.”

“Why don’t you tell me what’s going on.” Spencer suggested.

For the next fifteen minutes, the brothers took turns catching him up on what was going on in this town. They told him about the first body that had brought them here, a young girl who had been babysitting when she apparently scratched her own brains out. “And, get this—the kid she was babysitting had put itching powder on her hairbrush.” Dean added in. Spencer bit back the urge to explain that there was no way itching powder could make someone scratch that badly. This wasn’t a typical case, it was supernatural, and that meant that not all the regular rules applied. So he held his tongue and listened as they told him about the next victim, a man who had been electrocuted by a joy buzzer, and about the man who had been attacked by the tooth fairy.

“The tooth fairy?” Spencer couldn’t help it, he gaped a little at that.

Dean snorted out a laugh. “Yep. Guy lost all his teeth to Jim Belushi in a tutu.”

That was definitely one that Spencer had never heard before. From there, the boys told him about all the people that they’d found at the hospital. Kids with stomach ulcers from mixing pop rocks and coke, a guy whose face ‘froze that way’. Neither brother would give Spencer an example of what that meant, but considering that the last person who made the face was left with it frozen, he didn’t press the point. Next, they told him about finding the ‘center of weird’, as Dean put it, and going to the house to find a boy there who seemed to be at the core of this all. How it seemed as if reality was shaping itself to the boy’s will. What he believed, happened. He believed that pop rocks and coke put you in the hospital and a few kids ended up there with stomach ulcers. Dean convinced him the joy buzzer was safe and it was no longer dangerous when he pressed it against his brother. Sam scowled at him as he was reminded of that.

A bit of research had discovered that the boy, Jesse, was adopted, and they were on their way now to speak with his birth mother, who Sam said had gone to great pains to try and keep herself hidden. Spencer didn’t bother asking how they’d found her if she was supposed to be hidden. Working with a hacker for years now had left him with the motto that sometimes it was better to just not ask where information came from.

“Does any of this make any sense to you?” Sam finally asked as they wrapped up their story. “Cause we’ve never seen anything like this.”

There was something teasing at the back of Spencer's mind, a half formed thought that he wasn’t quite sure he wanted to listen to or not. If he was wrong, he didn’t want to get everyone worked up over nothing. “I’m not sure yet. Let’s speak with this woman first.”

CXCX

That niggling thought in the back of Spencer's mind was no longer able to be ignored by the time they left the woman’s house. It wasn’t just a thought anymore, either. There was no doubt in Spencer's mind what they were dealing with here. He’d known from the minute the woman reacted to their presence by bolting and then flinging salt at them like they were demons. From that instant, Spencer had known deep inside where it was all going to go. It’d only been confirmed when she told them her story—a story of possession and pregnancy. She told them of the nine months she’d carried both the demon and that little boy inside of her, and of the labor where she finally got enough control of her body to swallow down salt and expel the demon from her. Then she told them of putting that little baby up for adoption.

Though Spencer could understand why she’d done it, he’d still had to fight back his temper at hearing her say it. It wasn’t Jesse’s fault that he’d been born! How was it fair that he had to be the one to suffer? His mother had cast him aside, afraid of his very existence, and he’d been fostered off onto a family who had no idea about the truth of the child that was living with them. There’d been no one there to help Jesse, no one to tell him that the strange things that happened around him were okay. Spencer had no idea how his life would’ve turned out without his mother’s love and acceptance and his true father’s love and support. Even if he hadn’t known that the presence in his dreams was real and was his actual father, he’d still learned from him, taken comfort from him. Sometimes he’d been the only thing that had kept Spencer going. How would he have turned out if none of that had been there? Granted, Spencer knew the two situations were different. He was half angel and Jesse—Jesse was half demon. But what was in his blood didn’t make him inherently bad, just as what was in Spencer didn’t make him inherently good. They were both capable of going either way. It was a choice.

“Is it possible?” Dean asked the minute they were outside. “Is that kid really the spawn of a demon and a human?”

The word ‘spawn’ had Spencer giving a minute flinch. Still, he nodded. “Yes.”

Dean swore under his breath. “I’m calling Cas.” He said firmly.

Before he could grab his phone, Spencer reached out and caught his arm, forcibly stopping him. He held steady as Dean’s eyes snapped up to him. “Dude, let go.” Dean said in a low, warning voice.

“Think about this first, Winchester.” Spencer kept a careful hold on him, making sure Dean stayed where he was and listened to him before he did anything else. “Are you sure calling in an angel is the best plan here? I can almost guarantee you that he’s not going to react well to this. Take it from another half-breed; angels don’t take well to what they consider abominations, and that boy? That’s exactly what they’re going to think of him. Are you willing to have his death on your conscience?”

Dean jerked his arm free from Spencer's hold. “Cas isn’t gonna kill him.” He insisted. Marching away, he deliberately pulled out his cell phone and sent off a text. Spencer watched him go with a shake of his head. “I hope you’re right, Winchester. I really hope you’re right.”

CXCX

Spencer sensed Castiel’s presence the minute they pulled into the parking lot of the motel. It set him almost immediately on edge. A knot built low in his stomach and his chest tightened a little. Talking about telling Castiel about his existence had been one thing; to know that he was going to walk into that motel room and actually be face to face with an angel, even if they weren’t telling him yet, well, it was enough to have him feeling like he might just throw up what little lunch he’d eaten earlier. Spencer fought to hide the slight tremble to his hand when he opened the car door and climbed out.

Neither Sam nor Dean seemed to notice anything off with Spencer. They walked ahead of him, discussing what they were going to do, what might be done, not knowing that the angel was waiting ahead. Spencer shamelessly hung back and let himself halfway hide behind Dean as Sam opened up the motel room door and stepped inside. He sort of hunched in on himself, ducking his head down just a little, and stuck just a bit behind Dean. Enough that Castiel actually didn’t notice him at first.

When the brothers saw him, Dean seemed to relax a little while Sam actually tensed up ever so slightly. It wasn’t that noticeable, nor was the flicker of his eyes in Spencer's direction. All of it happened in a flash before vanishing and leaving Sam looking as calm as he had before. He strolled over to the little table, file in hand. “I take it you got our message.” He said as he sat down.

Spencer quietly shut the door behind him, trying to ignore it as Castiel’s eyes flickered his way. To his surprise it was Dean who waved a hand, simply saying “He’s with us.” That seemed to be that. Castiel nodded and put his attention back on the brothers. “It’s lucky you found the boy.

“Oh, yeah, real lucky. What do we do with him?” Dean said sarcastically.

The answer they got was exactly the one that Spencer had known they’d get. The one that Dean had sworn wouldn’t happen. “Kill him.” Castiel said.

Sam paused in the middle of loosening his tie to stare at the angel. He’d been the one more open to Spencer's words before, yet even he still looked shocked by it. Dean looked like he’d been struck. After his quick defense of Castiel earlier, this had to be like a real blow to him. “Cas…”

“This child is half demon and half human, but it's far more powerful than either. Other cultures call this hybrid cambion or katako. You know him as the antichrist.” Castiel explained. He moved forward and sat down in the chair opposite Sam, and Spencer was stunned completely as a very loud far sound filled the air. Castiel shifted position and the noise grew louder.

There was a half a second of stunned shock on Spencer's part and then it all clicked and he leaned against the wall, trying not to laugh. The urge to laugh only grew at the look of consternation on Castiel’s face as he told them “That wasn’t me” and then proceeded to pull out a whoopee cushion from underneath him. He looked so lost, so flustered by the pink object that he held, and Dean was absolutely horrible at his innocent face as he tried to play it off, saying “Who put that there?” It was all too much and Spencer couldn’t help it. Wrapping an arm around his waist, his delighted laughter echoed around the room. Dean had just pranked an _Angel of the Lord_ with a freaking _whoopee cushion_.

“All right there, chuckles.” Dean said, looking over at Spencer and shaking his head. He looked just a little bit proud, though, a hint of smugness in his eyes, and Spencer flashed him a wide grin and a tip of the head in kudos while he tried to get his laughter back under control. Spencer had always appreciated a good prank, as Derek had learned on more than one occasion when trying to get him. Caltech had been full of them.

Sam was the one who brought them back on topic. The way he did it, only rolling his eyes at the two of them, suggested that he was probably rather used to playing this role, though usually it would be just Dean that he had to deal with. “Anyway, I don't get it. Jesse is the devil's son?”

Sighing, Castiel shook his head. “No, of course not. Your Bible gets more wrong than it does right. The antichrist is not Lucifer's child. It's just demon spawn. But it is one of the devil's greatest weapons in the war against heaven.”

“Well, if Jesse's a demonic howitzer, then what the hell's he doing in Nebraska?” Dean asked.

“They lost him. “Spencer spoke up. All signs of his earlier laughter were gone and his face was serious once more. Stepping forward, he looked to the brothers. “It’s the only thing that makes any sense. They’ve lost him and they’re trying to find him again.”

Dean looked a little skeptical of that. “And they lost him because?”

“Because of the child's power.” Castiel said, shooting a hooded look Spencer's direction. “It hides him from both angels and demons. For now.”

“So he's got, like, a force field around him. Well, that's great. Problem solved.”

If only it were that simple. Spencer shook his head, but Castiel beat him to answering this time. “With Lucifer risen, this child grows strong. Soon, he will do more than just make a few toys come to life—something that will draw the demons to him. The demons will find this child. Lucifer will twist this boy to his purpose. And then, with a _word_ , this child will destroy the Host of Heaven.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.” Dean held a hand up. “Wait. You're saying that—that Jesse's gonna _nuke_ the angels?”

“No.” Spencer snapped out at the same time that Castiel said “We cannot allow that to happen.”

Spencer's face hardened and he glared at the angel. “It’s not going to happen. Jesse is a _child_. He’s not going to go murdering angels.”

“Wait.” Sam interjected, breaking them up and drawing attention to him. He rose to his feet, eyes darting from one person to the next, finally settling on Castiel again. “We’re the good guys. We—we don't just—kill children.”

Castiel rose as well to face Sam across the table. “A year ago, you would have done whatever it took to win this war.”

“Things change.” Sam said firmly.

Stepping forward, Dean put a hand on Sam’s arm just enough to gesture him back. He stepped between the two as Sam turned and moved towards the window. “Okay. Hey, look, we are not going to kill him. All right? But we can't leave Jesse here either. We know that. So...we take him to Bobby's. He'll know what to do.”

“You'll kidnap him?” Castiel asked. His expression clearly showed just how idiotic he found the idea. “What is going on in this town, it's what happens when this thing is happy. You cannot imagine what it will do if it's angry. Besides, how will you hold him? With a thought, he could be halfway around the world.”

“So we—”

“We tell him the truth.” Spencer said. It was the smart plan here, the only plan. He would not stand idly by while a child was killed simply for being different. For being a half-breed.

The only person in the room to latch onto the idea was Sam. He stepped forward again, eager once more. “He’s right. We tell him the truth. You say Jesse's destined to go dark side—fine. But he hasn't yet. So if we lay it all out for him—what he is, the apocalypse, everything—he might make the right choice.”

A silence fell over the room. Something crossed the angel’s face that had Spencer shifting ever so slightly in Sam’s direction, concern for his charge welling up in him. But Castiel simply leaned in, eyes locked on Sam’s. “You didn’t.” He said harshly, the words seeming to echo around them. “And I can’t take that chance.”

They held their stare for a beat longer and then Castiel was gone.

CXCX

One hour later, Spencer was beginning to almost regret actually answering Sam’s prayer earlier. This night definitely hadn’t gone how he’d expected it to. On the plus side, Jesse was alive. Castiel hadn’t managed to kill him at all. On the negative side, they had absolutely no idea where the boy had gone and his powers made sure they wouldn’t be able to find him unless he wanted to be found. They had almost gotten through to him, too! But so much had happened tonight. Was it any wonder the boy ran? First Castiel showing up to try and kill him, then Dean, Sam, and Spencer barging in, and then the demon showing up possessing his biological mother. It had been a mess from start to finish made worse by the fact that Spencer hadn’t dared to use his powers in any way that could’ve given him away.

Sam had warned him before they arrived that he should act as human as possible, at least until they had a chance to talk to Castiel and calm him down, and Dean had surprisingly and reluctantly agreed. Spencer had agreed just as reluctantly. But the reasoning hadn’t been as easy to remember when the demon showed up and was pinning them—well, pinning the boys, her power didn’t work against Spencer but he’d long ago perfect the ability to pretend that it did—against the wall.

The demon was gone now, forced out of its meatsuit by Jesse, and the boy was gone as well, having run to protect his parents, though he’d made sure to put everything to rights before he left. Now the two hunters and their respective angels were making their way back to the motel. As they all climbed into the back of the Impala, Spencer was keenly aware of the hooded looks that Castiel kept sending his way and he had to resist the urge to fly away from that heavy gaze. He didn’t think that he’d done anything back there that Castiel would’ve been able to notice. Sure, he’d come close a time or two, ready to intervene if necessary when the demon was hurting the boys, but any of the little things that he’d done to help out had been just that—little. He hadn’t thought they’d been something visible. Plus, had Castiel even been able to see anything? He’d been a little toy figurine at the time!

He knew something, though. That much was apparent. It didn’t become clear just how much until they were back at the hotel. Spencer had to give him credit for that. Castiel didn’t try to start anything in the car. He waited until they were back in the motel room to strike. He was smart about it, too. His grace was calm, betraying nothing until it was too late. One moment Spencer was walking into the motel room directly behind Dean and the next moment he was pinned against the wall with a hand around his neck and what he felt pretty sure was an angel blade poking dangerously against his ribs in the perfect position to slide up and pierce his heart. Sharp blue eyes, so startlingly bright, were only inches from his own, and that gravel deep voice growled at him “What are you?”

Smart angel. Not _who_ — _what_. He knew Spencer wasn’t human. Or, wasn’t _just_ human. But he didn’t know yet what he was.

“Cas!” Dean’s shout cut between them and then the hunter was right there, a hand on Castiel’s arm like he thought he could somehow pull the angel back. Of course, it did nothing. He didn’t have the strength to move an angel if that angel didn’t want to be moved. It didn’t stop him, though. He kept his hand there. “Cas, put the kid down. He’s…” He paused, eyes flashing to Spencer, and then almost reluctantly, like the words were pulled from him, he said “He’s safe. He’s not gonna hurt us.”

“He is not human.” Castiel said slowly. His hands never moved and his gaze never wavered. “I will only repeat myself once more. _What are you_?”

Here it was, the moment that Spencer had known was coming. The one that was more terrifying than any of his other reveals so far. The others could’ve gotten angry, attempted to kill him, or turned him in to the angels. Castiel? He could kill Spencer here and now or he could take him to Heaven and hand him over to his superiors for Spencer to be detained and interrogated as they tried to find out just who was responsible for siring him. This was a huge risk and he was trusting Dean and Sam’s promise that Castiel wouldn’t actually kill him. They were so sure about it; he had to believe they were right. Even if Dean had been wrong when he’d insisted that Castiel wouldn’t kill the boy, he had to hope that he was right about this. Spencer took a deep breath and then did what could possibly end up being the stupidest thing he’d ever done. His lips curved into a smirk that hid his fear and he drawled out, in flawless Enochian, “ _Hello, Uncle._ ”

The wide blue eyes went impossibly wider for one brief second before narrowing on him. They flashed with a hint of the grace inside. “ _Nephilim_.” The word was spat out like something dirty that left a foul taste in his mouth. Spencer tried not to let that hurt.

This was started, now. There was no stopping it. “I’m not here to cause trouble.” Spencer said carefully, keenly aware of the strength in the hand that was still pressed against his throat.

From somewhere off to the side Spencer could hear footsteps and then Sam’s deep voice, close enough that he knew he had to be standing right behind Dean. “He’s been helping us, Cas. He’s not a threat.”

The blade at Spencer's ribs pressed forward just the slightest bit and Spencer decided that enough was enough. There was risk and then there was suicide. He wasn’t suicidal. With a flare of grace, he held Castiel tight, preventing him from moving just long enough for Spencer to take flight, vanishing from the wall and appearing again on the other side of the room. The minute he touched ground, he released his hold on the angel. Castiel had damn good reflexes. He twisted almost immediately and flowed into a defensive posture, his blade still held free. Dean and Sam reacted more comically. They both looked around with surprise before they spun and followed Castiel’s gaze. It warmed something in Spencer to see Sam immediately step forward in an obvious effort to place himself between them, yet at the same time he had to resist the urge to move his charge out of the line of fire. It was his job to protect Sam, not the other way around. “Everybody just calm down.” The tall hunter said firmly.

Dean focused his attention on Castiel. “Cas, man, put the blade away and listen to us.”

“You have no idea what he is.” Castiel said. He was straightening up, though, no longer actively looking like he was going to try to jump across the room and stab Spencer. All at a single growled out command—not even a request, a _command_ —from Dean Winchester. That was a little tidbit that Spencer filed away for later. For now, he focused on more important things, like the angel that was watching him like he was some nuke that had the potential to go off. Those sharp eyes of his moved over to Dean. “He is a nephilim, Dean, and they are forbidden. You have no idea what you’re dealing with here. This creature is dangerous.”

Sam moved just a little closer to Spencer and he straightened up to his rather impressive height. “He’s not dangerous to us. He’s my friend.” He answered Castiel, voice firm, and Spencer warmed just the slightest bit at Sam’s honest defense of him. It eased some of the sting of Castiel’s reaction.

“Your friend.” Castiel sounded dubious. His eyes flickered over to Sam, sharp and cutting. “Do you have any idea what your _friend_ is capable of? You thought Jesse was powerful? He was a _child_. This being is an adult. You have no idea what it is capable of.”

The word ‘it’ had Spencer flinching. No matter that he’d expected it; it didn’t make it any easier hearing it. Seeing his flinch, Sam took another step, this time putting himself more firmly in front of Spencer and glaring at Castiel. “ _He’s_ a person.” Sam said sharply, emphasizing the ‘he’. “And he’s not a threat to us, Cas. He’s been _helping_ us.”

Before Sam could even finish his sentence, Castiel was shaking his head. “Not a threat? It is as I told you with the boy. Half of each, yet far more powerful than either. Grown into adulthood like this, with the strength and training to hide himself for so many years, you have no idea what he is capable of if he puts his mind to it. You saw the strength that Jesse possessed and he was but a child. Imagine that kind of power with years to grow and to train.”

“But Jesse was half demon.” Dean pointed out. “I mean, half angel, half demon, you’d think there’d be a pretty big difference between the two.”

“The principal is still the same. The only difference is that Jesse’s powers were demonic in nature while his are angelic.”

“So shouldn’t we be recruiting him instead of trying to kill him?” Sam asked.

That earned him a scathing look from Castiel that had Spencer taking a small, protective step towards Sam. “How well did that work with the child?”

This time it was Dean who stepped forward. He reached out this time, putting his hand on Castiel’s shoulder. “Dude, you said it—Jesse’s a _child_. But Spencer here is a grown up, fully capable of making his own choices and understanding what we’re up against.”

“And if he chooses against us?” Castiel countered. “What then? Do you want to put a weapon of that strength in Lucifer’s hands?”

For most of this conversation, Spencer had been content to let them talk. He kind of figured that it would go a bit smoother if he let them work it out amongst themselves. Besides which, he could admit that it was sort of interesting to watch. Sam and Dean seemed to have this strange sort of connection or something between them; somehow, they traded the conversation back and forth smoothly, each making their own points, never missing a beat when the other one took over. In this moment, they were working in tandem, tag-teaming the conversation, and Spencer was both fascinated and impressed. But he could only stay quiet for so long. Especially when being accused of potentially siding with Lucifer. “I have no plans to help Lucifer.”

“You would claim the same either way.” Castiel pointed out.

“ _I mean these boys no harm, Castiel_.” The Enochian words slid easily past Spencer's lips. He used that language intentionally, not only making their words private but giving them more weight as well. It wasn’t impossible to lie in any language, but it was much harder to do in Enochian. Words were more binding when spoken that way. A vow made in Enochian, with just a bit of grace behind them, held power. It was the best and only way that Spencer could think of to convince Castiel of his sincerity and something told him that making the angel understand he was on the Winchesters’ side was the quickest way to get him to stand down. Spencer drew in a breath and let a bit of his grace seep into his words, a hint of his true voice ringing behind them at a low enough level that it didn’t harm the humans in the room. “ _Samuel Winchester is my charge and I will do anything in my power to keep him safe and help him in his fight against Lucifer, or die in the attempt. By my word and on my grace._ ”

The power of those words was undeniable. Castiel’s eyes widened in surprise at hearing them. His grace reached out and Spencer held still, allowing the touch though he couldn’t help but be afraid. Castiel couldn’t kill him like this but he could choose to strike and cause damage. Yet trust had to begin somewhere. Feeling the grace of someone that wasn’t family was a strange and yet wondrous thing for Spencer. He let the warmth of the brief connection wash over him. Thoughts and feelings flowed back and forth between them.

When they pulled apart, a hint of that connection remained, a silent acknowledgement of _family_. Spencer looked into those bright blue eyes and smiled when he saw the anger and mistrust were gone. All else aside, sharing grace that way hadn’t let Castiel see anything too deep, but it _had_ let him see that Spencer meant them no ill will. That he was, in fact, just as devoted to their cause. It wasn’t much, wasn’t even friendship, but it was a start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Remember folks to either vote on my FF page under spencerremylvr or to let me know here what you want to see in pairings. So far, people seem really interested in seeing Sam/Spencer :P And, oddly enough, Spencer/Lucifer :P That surprised me a little


	5. Chapter 5

“I can’t believe you did it.”

Spencer snorted and leaned back against the couch, kicking his feet up to rest on the opposite armrest. That was the third time that Bobby had said those words since Spencer had showed up earlier and told him about meeting Castiel. The older hunter had been completely stunned to find out that Spencer had told an _angel_ of all things his secret. The meeting back in the hotel room had happened only three days ago, but Spencer hadn’t been able to get away from work until now to come and tell Bobby about it. Now that it was the weekend, and Derek swore they should have the whole weekend off, he’d come out here to talk to Bobby a bit. Later on, he’d pop in on the brothers, see what they were up to and maybe finally have the much needed talk about what they were all going to do to stop this apocalyptic train before it went sailing off the cliff. “It needed to be done, Singer. How was I supposed to be able to check in on them and help them out if I was constantly hiding out from their angel?”

“Still. Damn, kid,” Bobby shook his head and took a pull off his beer. He was parked just a few feet away from Spencer, set up so that they could see one another while they talked. He’d been there since Spencer had arrived about twenty minutes ago. Visiting Bobby was definitely something easier to do now that he didn’t have to worry about whether or not Castiel would show up here. Bobby looked back up at him and shook his head. “An what’s your Daddy got to say about all this? You got four people who know about your secret now.”

“You’re implying I’ve actually _told him_. He doesn’t even know that I know you or the Winchesters.”

This time it was Bobby’s turn to snort. “Yeah, cause that’s gonna end up so well. I’m sure he’ll love finding out you’ve been keeping it from him.”

“I don’t intend on letting him find out.” Spencer said fervently. Just the idea of his father knowing what was going on was enough to have him wanting to shudder. “With the angels down on earth, we’ve cut back on our visits for a bit, sticking mostly to shared dreams. The last thing we want is for one of us to lead the angels to the other. So long as we stick to that, we’ll be fine. I’ll let him know once the apocalypse is over.” And the threat wasn’t anywhere near as strong. There’d be time enough then to deal with the epic temper tantrum his father was going to have.

The look Bobby was giving him now was sharper and slightly guarded. “You aint gonna be asking him for any help then, I take it?”

Spencer's eyes went wide. “Absolutely not.”

“Seems to me like he’d be a mighty big help here, mutt.”

“Or he could get himself killed.”

“We’re all taking a risk.” Bobby pointed out carefully. “This aint exactly safe for any of us. Having another angel on our side could help us a whole hell of a lot.”

For the first time since Spencer and Bobby had become friends, there was honest and true temper on Spencer's face, turning it had and cold in a way that he’d never directed at Bobby. But Bobby had never posed any sort of threat towards Spencer's family before and there was no quicker way to set the young nephilim off than to put any member of his family at risk, or to even suggest it. “I said no, Singer. As your friend, I’m asking you not to push this. My father has already been hurt enough. I won’t ask him to put himself forward to be hurt again.”

There was absolutely no doubt that subject was closed. Spencer's tone was sharp and biting and Bobby swore he felt a prickle of something that had the hairs standing up on his skin like the moment before a storm. For one brief second, there was something in Spencer's eyes, something bright and ancient and dangerous. The chime of a text message echoed in the room and Bobby watched as Spencer blinked and that look was gone, those eyes once more the same calm ones that Bobby had always known, yet even as he watched Spencer pull out his phone to reply to whatever message had come in, he couldn’t quite forget the power behind that look.

Spencer pushed him up from his reclined position and dropped his feet down to the ground. Typing out a reply, he locked his phone and put it back in his pocket. “The boys are at their motel for the night.” He explained, his voice still slightly cool. Pausing, he looked over at his friend and he just couldn’t do it. He sighed and let his temper drain out of him with it. When he opened his eyes again, there was apology written in them. “I’m sorry, Singer. Jumping down your throat was the last thing I should’ve done.”

“Let’s just call this one of those topics we agree to disagree on.” Bobby offered.

It was the best he would get and Spencer knew it. He would take it, though. He and Bobby had been friends for too long for a difference of opinion to get between them. “Thanks.”

The older hunter waved a hand at him and mock scowled at the earnestness in Spencer's words. “All right, all right, enough of that, mutt. Go check in with the boys. An tell them to call me!” He tacked on, leveling him with a glare to make sure he got that part. “If it weren’t for you, I’d be running blind here with the way those boys tell me things.”

A chuckle tickled at the back of Spencer's throat. He lifted one hand and gave a mocking salute. “Yes, sir.”

He flew out of there before the book could connect with him.

CXCX

Old habits die hard and Spencer found himself checking the motel room for any sign of angelic presence before he arrived. When he felt Castiel, he almost instinctively pulled back, only to remind himself that he didn’t have to do that anymore. He didn’t have to hide from Castiel. It felt odd to realize that. Odd and just a little freeing. Though he was still worried about people knowing his secret, especially an _angel_ , he had to admit that it felt good to know that there were some people who weren’t family who knew who and what he was. They might not have known the whole story but they knew enough that he could actually manage to be mostly himself while around them. That was something he hadn’t ever had outside of his family members.

Spencer was smiling when he landed on the foot of Sam’s bed. He’d picked that spot deliberately, just for the joy of watching Dean, who was walking right past there, jump so badly his feet actually left the ground. If it hadn’t been for Sam being right beside him, the older Winchester probably would’ve tumbled backwards. But Sam was there and he caught him, grinning broadly the whole time. Spencer's own grin was wide and proud.

“Dammit!” Dean straightened himself up and glared at Spencer. “You’re gonna get shot doing that one of these days!”

He shrugged one shoulder and smirked, ever so slightly. “I’d move.”

It amused him to watch Dean walk away grumbling something about ‘freaking angels’ and ‘bells’. Spencer's eyes were dancing with mirth when he looked up at Sam. “How are you, Sam?”

“Not too bad.” Sam answered, smiling right back at him. He reached into the duffle bag that was just behind Spencer on the bed. “We just got things wrapped up and I’m filthy, though. Salt and burn.” He added the last part, seeing Spencer's curious expression. Pulling out clean clothes, he held them carefully so as not to get any of the dirt from his shirt on them. “Go ahead and make yourself comfortable. I’m just gonna go grab a shower.”

“Bout time.” Dean teased from where he’d taken a seat at the table where Castiel was already sitting. There were cards spread in front of them that had Spencer slightly curious.

Sam grinned and flipped his brother off before heading in to the bathroom.

Well, hell. Biting the inside of his lip, Spencer watched the bathroom door shut, wondering just how long it would take him in there. He’d heard Dean teasing his brother before about how long his showers could be. After a quick debate, he turned back to Dean and Castiel and found that they were watching him. It made him want to shuffle around a little and he could feel his wings drawing up ever so slightly in embarrassment. He _hated_ being the center of attention. Especially with two people he wasn’t even sure liked him half the time. “I’ll just, ah, go take care of a few things.” He stammered out, pushing up to his feet. “I’ll be back once Sam’s out.”

Before Spencer could get a chance to even stretch out his wings to take off, he was stopped by a quick, half-shouted “Wait!”

He froze in mid motion and looked with surprise at Castiel. The angel had one hand lifted, like he’d been trying to reach out to physically stop Spencer, and there was just a hint of something hesitant on his face. It was his body language, though, that really had Spencer's attention. The nervous little twitch to his wings, the shy pulse of his grace. If he was a human, he might’ve been shuffling as well, or nervously biting his lip, but Castiel didn’t know those human gestures. He slowly dropped his hand down to his lap and his grace gave a small, hopeful flare as he softly said “You do not have to go.”

Now Spencer wasn’t the only one looking at him. Dean was looking at the angel as well, only his expression seemed contemplative. Then those sharp green eyes slid to Spencer and the surprises just kept coming. Whatever he’d expected Dean to say when he opened his mouth, it certainly hadn’t been “Y’know, I’ve been trying to teach Cas poker. You could join us, if you want.” He paused and a hint of an actual, real smile touched his lips. “He’s crap, but he’s got the best damn poker face I’ve ever seen, so it kind of evens out.”

The offer was the last thing Spencer had expected to ever get. He and Dean seemed to have a sort of peaceful understanding lately, sure. They bickered a bit and pressed one another’s buttons but they got along okay. This, though—this was a surprise. Spencer wasn’t quite sure what to say to it. Not until he saw the hopeful lift to Castiel’s shoulders and wings. Once he saw that, there was no other answer that he could give except “That sounds like fun.”

That was how he found himself sitting at a small motel table while Dean Winchester shuffled cards and dealt them out. A Hunter, an Angel of the Lord, and a Nephilim are all playing poker—it sounded like the start to a very bad joke. Spencer just wasn’t sure yet what the punchline would be.

“You ever played before?” Dean asked him as he started to deal out the cards.

There was only a split second for Spencer to think about his answer. In the end, it took no real thought at all. He shrugged his shoulder as casually as possible. “A bit.” He said, making a point to fumble slightly as he picked up the cards he’d been dealt. “It’s been a while.” Not a lie; the last game he’d played had been a little over six weeks ago.

The small flicker of a smile on Dean’s lips told him the bait had been taken. Oh, yeah, this was suddenly proving to be much more interesting than before. “Don’t worry.” Dean reassured him. His smile was only slightly patronizing. “We’ll take it easy on you.”

“Thank you.” Spencer said.

He’d just found his punchline. Amused, Spencer smothered his smile and settled more comfortably into his chair.

CXCX

It was far more amusing than he’d thought it be to watch Dean try and teach them about poker. Part of it was simply watching the way that Castiel hung on every word that Dean said like they were the gospel. The older Winchester was actually pretty patient about explaining the rules to his angel, as well as explaining to him that a bit of gambling and card playing with friends like this wasn’t anything to worry about so long as you didn’t go overboard with it. Spencer chose not to comment on the fact that someone who was fighting against the devil was essentially sitting here trying to convince an Angel of the Lord to sin. He kept his humor on that to himself; he highly doubted Dean would find it anywhere near as funny as he did.

By the time that Sam finished his shower and joined them once more, the trio at the table was getting along surprisingly well. They’d just finished a hand that Castiel won—Dean hadn’t been kidding when he said Castiel wasn’t great, though he made up for lack of skill with one heck of a poker face—and the sight of them playing together had Sam’s whole expression warming. “Looks like you guys are having fun.” He called out as he strolled over.

“Why don’t you join us?” Spencer offered, waving a hand to make a chair appear between him and Dean.

“Yeah, come on, Sammy.” Tipping his head up, Dean flashed a grin at his brother. “Been a while since I took all your money.”

That challenge was just the right thing to bring Sam forward and have him dropping down into the chair. “Dude, I think your memory’s starting to go a little, cause I clearly remember wiping the table with you last time.” The smirk Sam wore was pure little brother mischievousness.

Dean’s grin grew in response. “Oh, it’s on, bitch.” He turned that grin towards Spencer and Castiel, cocking one eyebrow at them. “You two don’t have to bet anything real, don’t worry. We’ll keep the cash between Sammy and I.”

Amusement ran through Spencer and he fought back a smirk. He pointedly ignored the surprised and curious look that Sam was giving him and he made his own smile a bit shy and easy going. “I don’t mind. That’s part of the game, right? I’ll cover Castiel and I.” Bringing up one hand, he waved it over the table between him and Castiel, calling up money that he knew was sitting in his dresser at home—his emergency stash for random moments like this where he needed cash that he didn’t have on hand. It was far easier to transport something from one place to the next than to just make it out of nothing. Once it was there, he split it, already knowing exactly how much there was. He pushed half of the pile over to Castiel and pulled the other half to himself.

“You do not have to do that, Spencer.” Castiel told him in that gravelly voice of his that always came out sounding so very serious. Whether it was Spencer giving him the money or the idea of gambling itself that bothered Castiel, he didn’t look quite comfortable.

Spencer couldn’t help how he flushed a little. Shrugging one shoulder, he looked down, meticulously organizing his money into a perfect stack. “It’s fine. This was just my stack of spare cash I keep at home. I don’t mind sharing it with you. Gambling with friends can be fun; you should be able to experience it.” He tacked the last bit on as a precaution; he wasn’t quite sure how an angel was going to feel about _gambling_. Then again, he’d broken enough rules already for these brothers. What was one tiny one more?

There was a moment of quiet before Castiel nodded. “Thank you.” He said solemnly.

With a shake of his head for the two of them, Dean went back to shuffling and then dealing out the cards. Spencer got comfortable while the cards were dealt and looked around their table. This was looking like it’d be a nice night but they were missing something here. It came to him a moment later and he smiled. Seconds later, there were beers sitting in front of the Winchesters and various snacks arrayed on the table out of the way of the cards but within reach to make snacking easier. He almost didn’t give Castiel anything to drink. Something told him the angel didn’t really lean towards the human side of things in his vessel. Then he shrugged and gave the man a glass of his best scotch to match his own. When Castiel looked up curiously, Spencer smiled. “I know you don’t need it, but I thought you might like to try it. It’s a very old, very good scotch. Besides, drinking seems to be a tradition of sorts around the Winchesters. I’ve somehow ended up with some form of alcohol almost every time I’m here.” He picked up his glass and chuckled. “If my friends could see me, they’d be amazed. Most people assume I wouldn’t touch alcohol.”

Dean snorted and reached forward to pick up the beer off the table, for once not hesitating to drink out of it. Even if he wasn’t extremely trusting of the nephilim yet he was starting to relax a little. Spencer took that as a positive sign. “Maybe that’s cause you look like a twink on his way to Comic Con.” Dean said, eyes running down over Spencer's clothes, which today were a pair of comfortable jeans and t-shirt with the schematics of the Serenity on the front, and then up to where once more Spencer had his hair pulled into a half ponytail that kept the messier parts out of his face.

“Hey!” Spencer exclaimed hotly, cheeks red.

Sam smothered a laugh behind his beer. He lost it, though, when Castiel tipped his head and furrowed his brow in thought before innocently asking “What is a twink?”

Laughter echoed around the motel room. Spencer grumbled and hunched down, grabbing his cards off the table and pulling them close, ignoring it as Sam laughingly explained to Castiel the definition of a twink. He glared across the table at Dean. The smug bastard was just grinning right back at him. Oh, he was going to have fun getting Dean back for this one. Spencer's wings ruffled up behind him, silent and invisible. “Are we going to play or what?” He asked them, ignoring the laughter it got him in return.

The first game went by easily enough. Spencer kept downplaying his skill, watching the others and leaning about how they played, while letting the easy conversation and friendly banter just roll around him. Dean and Sam were both good players. Poor Castiel was still quite confused on a lot of what he was doing. It took a lot of control for Spencer to not laugh out loud when Castiel leaned towards Dean at one point and tried—and failed—to quietly ask him “Are four of the same card good or bad?”

Dean looked like he wanted to sigh or shake his head or something. However, he surprised Spencer by restraining himself, his voice only slightly dry when he said “They’re good, Cas. The higher, the better.”

“Oh.” Sitting back up, Castiel looked at his cards again and then pushed some money out onto the table. “Then I would like to, I believe the term is, go ‘all in’.”

To no surprise, they all folded their hands, and it was worth it to see how pleased Castiel looked as Dean helped him rake in his money and stack it up. The angel’s wings fluffed up with both pleasure and pride. Spencer smiled at the sight of it.

They’d just dealt the next hand and Spencer was sitting back, comfortably eying his cards and drinking off his scotch, when he decided that now was probably the best time to try and discuss their plans. They were all comfortable and relaxed. Why not get a few things ironed out in an atmosphere that would hopefully help to keep any tempers from rising? The key was going to be keeping his tone just the right shade of casual. “So, I’ve been wondering.” He said, eying his cards as his turn came around before tossing out his money into the pile. “Call. Seeing as how I’m part of the team and all now, I was wondering if maybe I get to be clued in on what kind of plans you guys have got going on.”

Well, so much for being ‘casual’. That had never been something he was great at anyways.

He wasn’t really surprised that it was Sam who answered his question. “We’re trying to track down the Colt.” He tossed his own money out at the pile. “Call.”

Surprise had Spencer's eyebrows shooting up. “You want to kill the devil.”

“You got a better plan?” Dean asked, sharp eyes snapping briefly up towards Spencer. “Cause I’m all ears.”

“Not yet. I’m still looking.”

“Yeah, well, until then we’re gonna work with what we’ve got.” Dean said.

Spencer tried not to roll his eyes. Why on earth did this man have to get so abrasive about everything? It was like he thought any questions directed at him were some kind of direct attack. Spencer didn’t understand it. How was he supposed to understand things so that he could help them if he didn’t ask questions? “Is killing him the only option that you’re open to?”

The reaction to that question wasn’t at all what he’d expected. Three faces turned up towards him and he found himself pinned by three sets of eyes. “What are we supposed to do?” Dean asked sharply. “Invite him over for a beer and some sharing and caring?”

The others ignored Dean’s sarcastic outburst. “Do you have another suggestion?” Castiel asked seriously, his cards completely forgotten in his hand.

Chewing on the inside of his lip, Spencer looked around at them. “Well, I mean, aren’t there other ways we can stop this? More than just killing him. I mean, logically, there should be alternatives. I’ve been trying to find one but it’s a bit slow going. There are a lot of books I need to go through.”

“I could help.” Sam offered immediately. “I mean, it’s no trouble to read a few books while we’re driving, or between cases. And I’m sure Bobby would take some of them, too. If that would make it easier.”

There were a few books that Spencer had planned on looking through that Sam should be able to handle. Some of the books he wasn’t exactly going to hand out to anyone else. There was too much inside of them that didn’t really need to get into the wrong hands. There were others, too, that were in languages Sam wouldn’t understand. Some that Bobby wouldn’t even understand. But there were some that he should be able to hand over. “I could do that. It’d free up a little of my time and I could start reaching out to some contacts I have in the supernatural community. Might be that one of them knows something.”

“You have supernatural contacts?” Dean asked. He tapped his finger on the table, seeming to suddenly remember the game they were playing, and checked his hand. The card game, which had stopped with the more serious talk, slowly started back up again.

“Well, yeah. Not that they know who I really am, of course. They just know I’m different.” Spencer shrugged one shoulder. “I try not to deny or confirm anything. It makes things easier, I’ve found.”

“Speaking with other beings might be wise.” Castiel admitted. There was a small pause and Spencer knew what was coming next even before Castiel said it. “What of your…father?”

Twice in one day. Best to get this all wrapped up nice and neat right here and now so that he wouldn’t have to hear the questions again. “I’ve been over this with Singer already today. The answer is no. And before you ask, no, I’m not going to change my mind. I will not ask him for help. Even if I was willing to put him at that kind of risk, which I’m not, there wouldn’t be any guarantee that he would help. He’d be just as likely to, as you put it, ‘freak out’ because I’m working with you and putting myself at risk and there’s every likelihood that you’d have neither of us helping you.” He didn’t give them any time to comment on his firm speech. It was time to lay out their cards and he spread his hand out on the table, corner of his mouth tipping up. “Full house, aces over kings.”

It was rather satisfying to watch Dean gape at that. Castiel showed no reaction, simply folded his cards onto the table in front of him. But Sam was grinning and shaking his head as he tossed his cards down as well. “Dude.” Dean dropped his own cards down with a scowl. “I taught you too damn well.”

Spencer and Sam both had to laugh at that. At Dean’s scowl, Sam shook his head and got his laughter under control enough to say “Dude, Spencer grew up in Vegas and he’s a genius with an eidetic memory. He’s probably been counting cards since he was a kid. You got hustled by a pro.”

“Eight.” Spencer corrected. His lips twitched with suppressed laughter. “I learned how to count cards when I was eight.”

There was something on Dean’s face then that Spencer thought might be a grudging sort of respect. It would figure that he couldn’t get the man to like him by saving his brother or trying to help stop the apocalypse. No, it had to be by hustling him at poker. Never let it be said the Winchesters did anything the normal way.

Dean gathered up the cards and put them into a stack. Picking them up, he fixed Spencer with a glare, pointing one finger at him. “I’m on to you now, you sneaky little shit. Tonight, we’re all taking a much needed break and you’re gonna give me the chance to win my money back. You’re going home with empty pockets tonight, angel kid.”

This was acceptance, Spencer thought to himself. In an oblique, Winchester sort of way, but acceptance nonetheless. Much more than he’d thought he’d gain here tonight. Spencer's smile grew a bit bright and a lot more honest. “Sounds like fun to me.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have direct quotes from Changing Channels in here, just to warn you guys. I kind of needed to so I could get those parts right

For the next two weeks it seemed like the Winchester brothers were on a nonstop stream of cases. It kept them busy and it kept Spencer busy as well. Handing off some of his books to Sam and Bobby to look through had lightened Spencer's load the slightest bit, but he just filled it all over again by using his free time to start discreetly putting out feelers, trying to find something they could do to stop Lucifer. He knew it was driving Dean crazy that he wasn’t extremely forthcoming about the people that he reached out to. The older Winchester wanted to know who Spencer was going to see, what he found out, pretty much everything, and Spencer wasn’t giving it to him.

“Most of my contacts are very private people, Winchester.” Spencer told him. “If they give me anything important, I’ll let you know, otherwise you need to drop it.”

He should’ve known that wouldn’t work. That there was no way that Dean would just let it go. The man had control issues that had the psychologist in Spencer sitting up at attention. However, they were all tied up in the Daddy issues and that was just something that Spencer wasn’t going to even bother touching. One major crisis at a time. Right now, the apocalypse was a little more important. Still, he hadn’t expected how Dean would resolve those issues of his. He’d thought for sure the man would just continue to pester him with countless questions that Spencer would then refuse to answer. That was his mistake. He wouldn’t underestimate Dean again. The man was sneakier than he appeared and unafraid to gain assistance in getting what he wanted.

When Spencer first noticed it, he had just left the boys for the night and was flying off to try and talk to a few people before he went back home himself and grabbed a little sleep. He was halfway between the motel and his first destination when he felt that extra presence nearby. One of the early things his father had taught him had been how to identify when another angel was around him. That was kind of an important step in keeping yourself safe and hidden from angels—know when they got close. He’d learned how to recognize that unique feel of grace on a level that his Dad said not even regular angels could do. It really came in handy. Especially on nights like tonight. Spencer sensed the angel following him and altered his course in just enough time that he wouldn’t lead any angel to his friends. There was no way he was putting anyone at risk.

He landed calmly in Paris, appearing discreetly at an empty table in a café that was one of his favorites. He’d masked his arrival enough that no patrons noticed a man magically appearing. But most of his attention was focused on the presence that had followed him here. When he caught it, he was surprised to find that he recognized it. Surprised, and suspicious. What on earth was Castiel doing coming after him? Spencer had just left the brothers; they should be fine. Besides which, if something nwere wrong Spencer would’ve felt it or Castiel would’ve appeared here at the table with him. Instead, the angel was a little ways away, trying to remain hidden.

A sneaking suspicion built in Spencer's mind. He wanted to be wrong; oh, he truly did. That was why he made sure to test it thoroughly first. Spencer left the café, appearing next at a little diner in Greece. From there, he went to Spain. Then London, Canada, Nebraska, Texas. Everywhere he went, Castiel was there, following behind him at what he probably thought was a discreet distance. With each place that he followed, Spencer felt his temper growing a little more until finally, he’d had enough. He’d had _more_ than enough.

The next place he appeared was right back in the brother’s motel room. It wasn’t really surprising to find Sam sitting in bed with his laptop or Dean sitting in his watching TV. Their case was done and tonight was supposed to be about rest. Not anymore. Spencer ignored Sam’s surprised voice calling his name and he fixed hard eyes on Dean. He didn’t even have to ask—the thought was right there in the older hunter’s mind, clear as day.

A low growl built in Spencer's throat. “You son of a bitch.” He spat out. Without breaking eye contact, he reached out to his angelic shadow and _pulled_ , dragging Castiel into the room. Only then did he look away from Dean and that was only to transfer the glare to his uncle.

Castiel looked stunned. “You should not have been able to do that.”

“There’s a lot you don’t know that I can do.” Spencer snapped furiously.

From the side he could see Dean rise up and start to move towards him like he was going to do something, and really, hadn’t he learned yet that coming at Spencer was a stupid idea? How many times were they going to play this out? Only this time, he had Castiel here as well, and the angel was taking a step forward, too, trying to obviously place himself between Spencer and Dean. With a low snarl, Spencer solved it by sending them _both_ flying. They slammed into the nearby wall with hard thuds that Spencer had to quickly muffle to make sure no one in adjoining rooms would hear and feel the need to report. That was the only real courtesy he gave, though. His temper was too great. “How dare you?” he snarled at them.

Behind him, he heard the bed shift as Sam started to rise and he pointed one finger back at him without ever turning away from the others. “Stay there, Sam, or I swear I will make sure you stay there.” Outside the motel there was a low rumble, like thunder in the distance.

The sound of that thunder had Castiel’s eyes going wide. “Spencer, you need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” Spencer stalked forward, his hands curled into fists beside him. There was a brief flash of something in the room, a sense of power for the humans, and for one brief moment there was a shadow of wings behind Spencer, four of them, both pairs showing through in a way he wouldn’t have allowed if he’d been in more control. “ _You followed me_.” His voice was deeper, carrying a hard edge of anger to it, and his eyes sharpened when they moved to Dean. “You had him _follow me_.”

“We’ve got a right to know who you’re pulling in on this.” Dean tried to say.

Another boom of thunder sounded, louder and closer than before. “Don’t speak to me about rights after you’ve just violated mine. I won’t compromise their safety for your curiosity. I won’t lead you to beings that you wouldn’t hesitate to kill and I damn well won’t risk anyone following me if I choose to speak with my family.” That was what terrified him the most. Family had been a potential on his list of visits tonight. He hadn’t made his mind up on it yet. What if he’d gone? What if he’d gone and hadn’t realized that Castiel was following him? The thought was enough to send a shiver down his spine.

His fear only fueled his anger. When he spoke again, his voice was crackling with restrained power. “That is the first, last and _only_ time I ever want to find you following me. Consider this the only warning that you’re going to get.” His eyes narrowed and he fought to keep them from flashing with his grace as he glared at them. “Attempt to follow me again and I swear to you, I will be gone. I’ll keep my watch on Sam, but I’ll do it in true guardian fashion without you ever once seeing me and I won’t lift a finger more than I have to. I believe in your cause and I care for you all, but not at the sacrifice of the safety of my friends and family. You’d fight tooth and nail to protect the people you care about—don’t for one minute think that I won’t do the same.”

Before his temper could carry him any further or start something that he couldn’t or shouldn’t finish, Spencer took a deep breath and he was gone.

Castiel and Dean both dropped the instant that Spencer vanished. The angel said not a word, only glanced once at Dean and then he was gone, too.

Turning his head, Dean looked to the last occupant of the room only to find Sam glaring at him with one of his nastier bitchfaces, the one that clearly said ‘you’re an idiot and I’m so disappointed in you’. “That was a shitty thing to do.” Sam said flatly, closing the lid to his laptop. “He’s done nothing but help us. How many times is he going to have to prove himself to you before you stop treating him like he’s the enemy?” And before Dean could argue it, Sam set his laptop off to the side and went to the bathroom, shutting the door behind him with a loud _click_.

That left Dean just standing there gaping like an idiot near the wall, wondering how the hell a night that had looked so relaxing before had suddenly ended being such shit.

CXCX

Later on, Sam found himself actually feeling a little grateful towards his brother for pissing Spencer off. If he hadn’t, there was a very good chance that Spencer would’ve come with them on this case and that was the very last thing that they needed.

After the fight at the motel, the brothers had taken a case as a way to keep themselves occupied and to maybe work as a sort of distraction. The drive to Wellington, Ohio was a quiet one, though, even with the music playing. Neither brother spoke to the other. Sam had made it quite clear just how annoyed with his brother he was before they left, and in the form of little brothers everywhere, he was using the silent treatment to make damn sure that Dean knew he still wasn’t happy with him. To him, it was the least Dean deserved. He’d gotten off lucky on all fronts. Not only had he knowingly upset a friend of Sam’s, something that pissed the younger Winchester off, he’d also risked losing them one of their most powerful allies in this.

They were almost there when Dean broke. He was always the one that broke. He couldn’t stand the silent treatment. Quiet between them, he could handle that. Deliberate silence always grated on his nerves and Sam knew it. It was pretty much the whole reason he did it. Reaching out with one hand, Dean jerked the knot and turned the music off. “All right, Sam, come on. How long are you gonna do this silent crap? You’re pissed, I get it, okay?”

“What do you want from me, Dean?” Sam asked, not even bothering to look up from his book.

Dean made a sound that was half scoff, half snort. “Anything’s got to be better than this. I swear, I can _hear_ you brooding over there.”

“I’m reading.” Sam said slowly, like maybe Dean was stupid and saying it slower would make him understand better, and he lifted up his book to back his point.

“No, you’re brooding and it’s driving me crazy. You wanna say something, Sammy, then say it.”

“I already said what I wanted to.” Sam told him. Still, he marked his page in his book and closed it. Apparently they were going to talk about this now. “You’re an idiot and that was a stupid thing to do. You could’ve just settled for asking questions…”

“He wouldn’t answer any of em!” Dean interrupted.

Sam narrowed his eyes and glared at him. “He answered some. The ones he felt safe answering. Didn’t that clue you in that maybe he had a reason for not answering the others? Like, I don’t know, maybe he’s keeping people he cares about _safe_? Which is nothing more than we’ve done before for our friends and family.”

That sharp reminder cut off whatever Dean had been about to say. He grimaced a little and shot a quick look over Sam’s way. When he looked back out at the road, he sighed. “All right, so maybe I could’ve handled that better.”

“Maybe?”

“He’s got a lot of secrets from us, Sam! We’ve got a right to know them. Our asses are the ones on the line here.”

“And when has he done anything that put us at risk, huh? Everything he’s done so far has been to keep us safe, at risk to himself. He’s been helpful from the start, Dean.” Getting in to what he was saying, Sam sat up a little more and twisted himself in his seat to better face his brother. “He ripped that spell out and saved my _soul_ the first time we met. He helped ward my dreams so Lucifer can’t get in. He’s done research for us, backed us up, is helping us try and find a way to stop the apocalypse. He’s busting his ass for us and all he asked was that we let him keep people he cares about safe and your response was to ask Cas to _follow him_ and _spy_.”

“I know, I know.”

“You probably hurt him just as much as you pissed him off. He doesn’t talk about it, but he’s been really happy with Cas. I don’t think he ever expected to find an angel that wouldn’t try and smite him on the spot.”

“Yeah.” Dean grimaced, hands twisting on the wheel for a second. “Cas isn’t that happy right now, either. He likes the kid.”

“They’re family.” And that was something they both understood. Sam let out a soft sigh and turned to look at _his_ family, the only family he had left, and he couldn’t hold on to his temper. He knew why Dean had done it. He understood his big brother better than anyone and he knew just how far Dean would go to look out for his family. “Look, I get why you did it.” He said, letting go of his annoyance. It wouldn’t do him any good to stay mad over this, especially not when they were about to go work a case. “Just, take it easy on him, okay? Maybe apologize the next time he comes around. He’s on our side, Dean.”

He watched the emotion travel across Dean’s face, quick flashes there and gone again so quickly he wouldn’t have been able to read them if he hadn’t known that face better than he knew his own. His expression finally settled on something a little more relaxed than it’d been before, with a spark of humor at the edges. “Yeah, okay.” Dean agreed, eyeing him and giving a small smirk. “Don’t worry, I’ll make nice with your girlfriend.”

Laughing at the bitchface that earned him, Dean reached out and flicked the music back on, cranking it up before Sam could get a chance to respond.

CXCX

They arrived in Wellington, Ohio just a few hours later and got themselves checked into a motel, taking a moment to change into their FBI suits before they went down to the local police station. On their way there, they reviewed what they had so far, which really wasn’t much. The case was more of a hunch than anything else. It didn’t exactly seem normal for a man’s head to be ripped off in a ‘bear attack’. That just set off all their hunter instincts.

In the end it really didn’t take them long to realize what they were dealing with. Sam could admit it threw them at first. The locals were claiming it was a bear that ripped off Mr. Randolph’s head while his widow was claiming that it was the, ah, Incredible Hulk. Sam hadn’t been quite sure what to think of it when she said that. The Hulk? Really? But he and Dean had asked their questions and they’d done their research. That was when things had started to make sense. Little things added up. The Hulk, the candy wrappers at the crime scene—add those in with the fact that their victim had been a bit of a ‘hothead’ and they really hadn’t had to work too hard to come up with the right answer. Who did they know that would kill this way? A hothead getting killed by TV’s greatest hothead. Those kind of just desserts were only ever handed out by a Trickster.

Dean was all for killing it. Of course. “Good.” He said. “I've wanted to gank that mother since Mystery Spot.”

“You sure?” Sam asked carefully. There was a thought that had been building in the back of his mind since they’d found out what they were hunting here. He wasn’t sure how Dean was going to take it, though.

Dean looked at him like he was an idiot. “Yeah I'm sure.” The ‘idiot’ was silently tacked on there but still heard just as clearly.

“No, I mean are you sure you wanna kill him?”

“Son of a bitch didn't think twice about icing me a thousand times.” Dean reminded him sharply.

“No, I know, I mean, I'm just saying…” Trailing off, Sam tried to think of how to word this, how to put it in a way that Dean might actually accept, because he knew that his brother wasn’t going to like this idea _at all_.

“What are you saying?” Dean asked, watching him carefully. “If you don't want to kill him, then what?”

“Talk to him?”

“ _What_?”

It was almost worth it to see that stunned sort of look that Dean wore. Any other time and Sam would’ve enjoyed surprising Dean like that. Right now, he couldn’t take the time to enjoy it, too busy hurrying to try and explain what he meant before Dean blew up at him and he lost any chance to get a word in edgewise. “Think about it, Dean. He's one of the most powerful creatures we've ever met. Maybe we can use him.”

“For what?”

Surprised that Dean was actually listening, not snarling at him about how stupid his idea was, Sam hurried to make his explanation. “Okay, Trickster's like a Hugh Hefner type, right? Wine, women, song—maybe he doesn't want the party to end. Maybe he hates this angels and demons stuff as much as we do. Maybe he'll help us.”

There was a short pause in which the two just looked at one another. Whatever Dean saw on Sam’s face had him slowly straightening up. “You're serious.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah.”

“Ally with the Trickster.”

“Yeah.”

“A bloody, violent monster, and you wanna be Facebook friends with him?” Dean scoffed, shaking his head. “Nice, Sammy.”

“The world is gonna end, Dean. We don't have the luxury of a moral stand.” Sam pointed out. “Look, I'm just saying it's worth a shot. That's all. If it doesn't work, we'll kill him.”

“Dude, I agreed to bring Spencer in. Now you wanna bring a Trickster in, too?”

“Dean, we need all the allies we can get.”

He knew he’d won the instant he saw his brother sigh. Glaring, silently daring Sam to gloat, he demanded “How are we gonna find the guy, anyway?”

“Well, he never takes just one victim, right?” Sam asked. “He'll show.” And when he did, maybe they could add another ally to their side, someone who was strong enough to really help them. They could use all the help they could get.

CXCX

They should’ve known better. Really, they should’ve. How had he ever thought that the Trickster would help them? The bastard didn’t help anyone but himself. _Survive the game_ , he’d told them, and then left them here in the middle of TV Land. Leaving them to play part after part. Doctor, after Dean was _shot_. Game show where Sam got knocked in the nuts by a giant ball. A commercial ad for freaking _herpes_. Cops on a procedural cop show. Play their roles and they simply found themselves moved on to the next place, and then the next, and then the next. The Trickster wasn’t exactly known for his subtlety. They got his lesson pretty damn quick. _Play your roles_. It didn’t take a genius to figure out it. It was the same thing that everyone seemed to be shoving at them.

Only, unlike everyone else, the Trickster actually seemed to have the power to hold them here indefinitely, to keep them trapped in this place until they gave in. He’d banished Castiel, and that was a terrifying thought because how damn powerful was this thing if it could get rid of an angel like that? Castiel’s words “… _if it is a Trickster_ …” kept playing over and over.

Sam could admit he’d been damn close to calling Spencer though he was worried about what might happen to his friend if he tried. Especially when they thought they’d finally killed the bastard, only for Sam to end up as a damn _car_. But then Dean had stepped up with that quick brain of his that so many people underestimated and he’d figured out what they were up against—and how to trap it.

That was how they came to be standing here in the middle of the warehouse they’d started in with the Trickster trapped inside a ring of holy fire. A Trickster that wasn’t actually a Trickster. He stared at the being that they’d thought they’d killed more than once, the creature that had killed Dean over a _hundred freaking times_ , and Sam could only gape as the Trickster’s words repeated in his head. _“Gabriel, okay? They call me Gabriel._ ”

“Gabriel?” Sam said slowly, testing out the name, his disbelief easy to hear in his tone. “The archangel?” This guy? This guy was the archangel _Gabriel?_

Gabriel flashed a grin at them. “Guilty.”

The warehouse went quiet as the brothers processed this. It changed so many things. And Sam was suddenly, immensely happy that he hadn’t given in to the urge to pray to Spencer, that his friend wasn’t here, because Sam knew his history and he knew his bible—more so since he’d taken to studying a bit more ever since he’d first found out angels were actually real—and he knew what Gabriel had done to the nephilim. Judging by the look on Dean’s face, he was thinking about the same thing.

“Okay, Gabriel.” Dean said slowly, feeling his way through this. There were so many questions the both of them had, but one came through clearly, first and foremost. “How does an archangel become a trickster?”

“My own private witness protection.” He explained. “I skipped out of heaven, had a face transplant, carved out my own little corner of the world. Till you two screwed it all up.”

“What did Daddy say when you ran off and joined the pagans?” Dean asked sarcastically.

“Daddy doesn't say anything about anything.”

“Then what happened?” Sam asked him. “Why'd you ditch?”

Dean snorted and rolled his eyes. “Do you blame him? I mean, his brothers are heavyweight douchenozzles.”

The change to Gabriel’s expression was sharp and immediate. “Shut your cakehole.” He snapped, and there was power in his voice, an echo of something that made Sam immensely grateful that they were still separated by holy fire. “You don't know anything about my family. I love my father, my brothers. Love them. But watching them turn on each other? Tear at each other's throats? I couldn't bear it! Okay? So I left. And now it's happening all over again.”

“Then help us stop it.” Sam pleaded.

Golden eyes shone from the light of the fire and the look in them was ancient and sad, something that Sam hadn’t expected to see. “It can't be stopped.” The resignation in those four words was deep, like he was stating something that, to him, was simple fact.

“You wanna see the end of the world?” Dean snapped, his body a line of tension that not many would know how to read.

“I want it to be over!” Gabriel exclaimed loudly. “I have to sit back and watch my own brothers kill each other thanks to you two! Heaven, hell, I don't care who wins, I just want it to be _over_.”

There was pain in Gabriel’s voice, pain that came from way too long watching people that he loved try to rip one another apart, from knowing that one of them was going to kill the other in the end and feeling helpless to do anything to be able to stop it. Hearing it softened Sam’s tone, took away the sharp edge of it. “It doesn't have to be like that. There has to be some way to, to pull the plug.”

Gabriel laughed and it was a bitter, sharp sound, full of more pain than humor. “You do not know my family. What you guys call the apocalypse, I used to call Sunday dinner. That's why there's no stopping this, because this isn't about a war. It's about two brothers that loved each other and betrayed each other.” The smile changed to a smirk and his tone turned just a bit biting. “You'd think you'd be able to relate.”

“What are you talking about?” Dean snapped.

For a moment he was quiet, staring at them with surprise. Then his expression cleared and he raised his eyebrows, whistling lowly. “You sorry sons of bitches. Why do you think you two are the vessels? Think about it. Michael, the big brother, loyal to an absent father, and Lucifer, the little brother, rebellious of Daddy's plan. You were born to this, boys. It's your destiny! It was always you! As it is in heaven, so it must be on earth. One brother has to kill the other.”

“What the hell are you saying?”

“Why do you think I've always taken such an interest in you?” Gabriel asked them. He didn’t give them a chance to answer. “Because from the moment Dad flipped on the lights around here, we knew it was all gonna end with you. Always.”

There was a long pause then for his words to sink in. Sam felt them, could hear the damn truth in them and it hurt. Oh, man, did it hurt. But it didn’t change anything. He lifted his gaze from the ground and caught his brother’s eye. They’d be discussing this later, he knew, and he could see the damage that those words had already caused, but right here and now it didn’t change anything. Dean nodded ever so slightly at him and then looked back up at angel. “No.” He growled, his voice firm. “That’s not gonna happen.” It was his big brother tone, the one that Sam had learned over the years meant that this was the way it was going to be whether anyone else liked it or not. It was Dean’s tone that meant that he wasn’t going to be swayed.

“I'm sorry. But it is.” In contrast to his earlier words, Gabriel’s tone had turned soft, almost pitying. He sighed and lost some of his tension. Again, Sam saw that ancient look in his eyes, something that said he’d seen far more than they would ever be able to comprehend. “Guys. I wish this were a TV show. Easy answers, endings wrapped up in a bow...but this is real, and it's gonna end bloody for all of us. That's just how it's gotta be.”

Dean opened his mouth to argue, but they never got to hear what it was he was going to say. There was a faint whisper of sound behind them and the sound of the very last voice that Sam had wanted to hear right now.

“Well isn’t this an interesting sight.”

A whole maelstrom of curses passed through Sam’s head. He and Dean both spun in the direction of the voice even though they both knew who it was already. They recognized that voice, though it held an edge to it that Sam had come to associate with worry. And if there was ever a time to worry, now was it. He saw Spencer strolling towards them with the warehouse door slowly shutting behind him and Sam wanted nothing more than to shout at him to get out of here, _now_. In hopes that Spencer might hear him, he thought as hard as he could, too afraid to try praying; there was no telling if Gabriel would be able to pick up on a prayer sent to Spencer right now. _Get out of here! Go, Spencer, get out of here!_

Just a flash of chocolate eyes and a small shake of the head were all the answer he got before Spencer turned his eyes back to the trapped archangel. Sam held his breath and hoped with everything he had that Spencer was shielding himself and that his shields were strong enough to keep _an archangel_ from seeing the truth. After all, he’d hidden from the others all these years, right? So it would make sense that his shields would hold out now.

But when Sam turned back to look at Gabriel, all it took was that one look to see that his hopes were in vain. Gabriel’s eyes were locked hard and sharp right on Spencer and they were practically glowing with just how pissed he looked. Every inch of the archangel’s body was taunt and even with him trapped within the ring of holy fire the air still seemed to throb with _power_ and _danger_.

Sam met his brother’s wide eyes and knew they were both wondering the same thing. _What the hell do we do now?_


	7. Chapter 7

The air in the warehouse seemed electrified. Spencer could feel the power around him like a tingle prickling over his skin. He ignored everyone around him and walked right up to the ring of fire. Off to the side, he could feel Dean and Sam’s worry, could clearly hear Sam’s mental pleas for him to get out of here. But Spencer wasn’t going anywhere. He hadn’t walked in here unknowingly. It’d been days since he’d heard anything from the boys, days since he’d gotten a prayer from Sam, and while he’d expected Dean to be silent towards him—and was content with that, really, because he was still pissed at the man—he hadn’t expected Sam’s silence. Finally, he hadn’t been able to just brush it off as Sam giving him space. He’d messaged him, just a text, and then later a call, and then later he’d given in to the urge and hunted him down.

He’d expected to find them in some sort of trouble. He hadn’t expected—this.

When he was only a foot away from the fire, he stopped, trying so hard to make his body relax and knowing that he was failing abysmally at it. Then again, he dared anyone to stay calm when standing in front of a very obviously pissed off archangel, even if said archangel was trapped inside a ring of holy fire. The tension was so thick in the air Spencer thought he might choke on it. He fought past it and tried to make his tone a little lighthearted, turning his head so that he could give the boys a smile that he hoped was a little reassuring, though something told him he failed at it. “Boy, I can’t leave you two unsupervised, can I?”

“Spencer, get out of here.” Dean said lowly, taking one step towards him. “We can handle this. Just get on out here.”

For the moment the anger between them fell away. Spencer's smile was a little more honest now in the face of Dean’s concern. He hadn’t expected that. It was, nice. Dean was actually trying to protect him, and not just because he had to. He really did look worried for Spencer. Warmed by it, Spencer couldn’t help but tease a little, knowing that Dean wouldn’t appreciate any warm or heartfelt words.  “Are you actually worried about me, Winchester? Careful, people might start to think that you actually _like_ me.”

There wasn’t any time for Dean to respond. A low growl had Spencer's attention snapping back towards the archangel who had been silent up until now. Golden eyes glowed dangerously in the firelight, never once leaving Spencer's face. “Let me go.” Gabriel snarled. “ _Now_.”

Spencer hooked his hands into his pockets and rocked back a little on his heels. “I’d much rather have this argument while you’re safely in there, thank you.”

The light in Gabriel’s eyes flashed a little in a way that definitely wasn’t from the firelight. “You have to let me out sometime and I’ll be a lot more pissed off the longer you keep me in here.”

Spencer tipped his head to the side in that little thoughtful gesture he and Castiel shared. Then, before either Hunter could leap forward to stop him, he waved a hand and banished away the fire. He heard Sam suck in a sharp breath and Dean start to curse lowly. None of that really mattered. All that mattered was the furious archangel that was stepping out of the charred circle and moving towards Spencer. Both Sam and Dean held their breath as they watched Gabriel come to a stop just inches in front of Spencer. Then, stunning them completely, Gabriel crossed his arms over his chest and scowled up at Spencer, demanding “What the hell are you doing here, Fox?”

“Trust me, I’m asking myself that very question.” Spencer said with a sigh.

“And since when do you know the Winchesters, huh?”

“Wait a second…” Dean interrupted. He looked both annoyed and confused as he moved up to the side of them, because of course the idiot had no apparent sense of self preservation and actually thought that coming up and demanding answers from a pissed off archangel was somehow a good idea. “You two know each other?”

Whereas Dean looked confused, Sam looked like he’d just seen the proverbial light. Wide eyes went from Gabriel to Spencer and back again. “You’ve got to be kidding me. Him? _Him_?”

There wasn’t even a chance for Spencer to attempt to field that. He barely started to open his mouth when Gabriel waved a dismissive hand in the direction of the Hunters. “Yes, yes, congratulations, you’ve figured it out. Now shut up while I talk to my son.” He dropped that bombshell without a care for the reaction it got. Taking another step forward so that there was just a breath between them, he lifted a finger and jabbed it into Spencer's chest. “ _You_ are going to explain to me what is going on here and why you’re in the middle of this steaming pile of apocalyptic crap and not safely at home _where you should be_.” He didn’t give Spencer a chance to answer and poked him in the chest again. “I’ve worked to keep your ass far away from this and what do you do? You go hook up with Winchesters! _Winchesters_. Have I taught you nothing about self-preservation? Are you looking to get killed? Cause that’s what happens to idiots who hang around these two!”

Spencer looked down at his father for a long moment and waited. When Gabriel made an impatient sound, Spencer arched an eyebrow at him in a gesture that, in that moment, those watching wondered how the hell they hadn’t managed to recognize. “Oh, am I allowed to talk now?”

“Careful there, fledgling. You’re still young enough for me to put across my knee.”

Instead of worrying him, that threat actually had Spencer relaxing a little. Threats like that had rarely ever been followed through in his life. They were more for show than anything else. A soft smile touched his lips and some of the tension drained out of him. “I wouldn’t fit on your lap anymore.”

“Don’t push your luck, Penny-pot.” Gabriel warned him. Despite the nickname, his tone was serious enough to let Spencer know that he meant business. Trickster though he may be to others, to Spencer he was Dad, and his Dad only tolerated so much bullshit when it came to more serious matters—namely, the safety of his children.

Recognizing that tone, Spencer nodded quickly. “Okay, okay. Sorry, Dad. I’ll answer your questions, I promise I will, but do you think you could bring back Castiel, first? Please? I can feel him nearby somewhere.”

A snap of his fingers and Castiel appeared right beside Dean. The marks on his face and the way he held himself had Spencer's gaze snapping back to his father. Dean immediately hurried to his friend, but Castiel ignored him, staring straight at Gabriel. “Hello, Gabriel.”

“Lovely as this all is, Spencer and I need to have a little chat.” Gabriel told them. “I’ll send him back when I’m done.” With no more warning than that, he raised his hand and snapped his fingers again.

Spencer didn’t even stumble as he reappeared in the living room of one of his father’s safe houses. Then a firm hand pushed against his chest and he found himself shoved down onto the couch with a very annoyed looking Gabriel towering over him. “You better start talking here, and don’t you dare leave anything out. From the looks of it you’ve been lying to me enough lately.”

“I haven’t been lying!” Spencer defended immediately. A small flush hit his cheeks. “I just…haven’t told you.”

“Yeah, well, you’re telling me now, kiddo.”

So that’s what Spencer did. Toeing his shoes off, he curled his legs up on the couch and tucked his feet underneath him as he told his father everything. Gabriel sat down on the cushion next to him in a position almost identical to his and he kept surprisingly quiet while he listened even though more than once Spencer could see that he wanted to speak up. About halfway through he materialized some drinks for them; cocoa for him and coffee for Spencer. Then he just kept quiet as Spencer continued talking. It took a while for the story to be told in full. Until he started explaining it, Spencer hadn’t realized just how much there was to say. Little things kept having to be explained so that the rest of it would make sense. By the time he was done it had turned into quite the story and Spencer was having to fight back the guilt that ate at him. He hadn’t realized until trying to explain it all just how much he’d actually been keeping from his father. It bothered him to hear it all laid out like that. For his whole life, Gabriel had been the one person that Spencer could really talk to. The one that he told pretty much everything to. It’d been easy enough when he was just a child and had thought that he was nothing more than someone in his dreams. As he’d gotten older, the trust was already there between them and he enjoyed having someone he could tell things to without judgment.

Until recently, there had been only a few things that Spencer had ever kept from him. One was the incident with the demons which led to his friendship with Bobby Singer, which was another thing that he’d kept from him. The other big thing had been his addiction to Dilaudid. For months, he’d kept that secret, up until the day that Gabriel had swung by to check on him and found him high as a kite in his bedroom. There’d been no keeping it secret then. Nor had there been any continuing it. Gabriel had taken him away, putting them into a time loop so Spencer wouldn’t miss work, and he’d gone through the process of getting Spencer clean and sober. That wasn’t something he ever wanted to have to go through again. Not the detox, the withdrawals, or the conversations that had happened afterwards.

This was bigger than all that, though. This was something huge to have kept to himself and he’d known from the moment he started down this road that it was going to end up in one hell of an argument when it finally came out.

Quiet had fallen around them and Spencer found himself ducking his head down, though he peeked up through his bangs to watch Gabriel’s face. His expression was blank, amber eyes lowered down to his cup, but his wings showed his agitation, drawing up and rustling a little behind him.

“That’s a hell of a story.” Gabriel finally said.

Spencer fought back a wince at the careful tone. “I’m sorry.” It was all he could think of to say. He _was_ sorry. But, at the same time, he couldn’t see himself doing it any differently. The look he got told him that his thought had most likely been heard. That didn’t happen all that often; not unintentionally, not since he’d been taught to shield his thoughts when he was young. Before Gabriel could say anything, Spencer hurried to explain, the words tumbling past his lips in a rush because, dammit, he wanted him to understand, couldn’t stand the idea that maybe he’d really messed things up here. “I know you’re mad and you’ve got every right to be, really you do, but I didn’t do it to upset you or because I didn’t trust you. You know I do, Dad. I trust you more than I trust anyone else.”

“Then _why_?”

“Because I didn’t want to pull you into this! You told me once that you left because you wanted to get away from this kind of fighting. How could I do anything that would drag you back into it? How could I ask you to help us do anything to hurt your brother? I know I couldn’t if someone asked me. It wouldn’t be fair to expect you to do so. And I’m sorry if you don’t like that, but I’d do it again. I’ve seen how bad it hurts you just to talk about your past. The last thing I was going to do was knowingly pull you back into the midst of it all and I’m not sorry for that, Dad.”

He watched as Gabriel sighed, some of his tenseness fading away with it. Amber eyes lifted back up to him and one eyebrow arched up in dry amusement. “You do realize which one of us is the parent here, don’t you?”

That light teasing had Spencer's body almost slumping down into the couch with relief. If Gabriel was teasing him it meant that he couldn’t be too angry. Unable to speak past the sudden relief, Spencer settled for nodding.

Gabriel huffed out a breath and shook his head. With a snap, their cups vanished, and Spencer found himself getting tugged forward and tucked into a familiar and immensely comforting embrace. No matter what happened, no matter where he went or who was in his life, this right here always spelled home to him. This was safety and comfort all wrapped up in the strong arms around him, the shoulder his head was pillowed on, the golden wings that wrapped around them and kept them sheltered. He felt a cheek rest against his head and then Gabriel was sighing again. “I just want you safe, little fox.”

“No one’s going to be safe if we don’t stop this.” Spencer pointed out.

“That doesn’t mean that you have to be the one to stop it.”

“I can’t just sit back and ignore it.”

“I know. You’ve got too much of your Mom in you.”

Smirking, Spencer leaned in a little more, letting his eyes drift to half-mast. “I take that as a compliment.”

“I’m not gonna be able to talk you out of this, am I?”

Spencer shook his head. “No.”

The arms around him squeezed briefly. “I could ground you and keep you here.”

Huffing out a breath, the young nephilim rolled his eyes. “I’d find a way to get free.”

That earned him a low laugh. Gabriel shifted them both, sitting Spencer up again. He reached up and smoothed a bit of Spencer's hair back from his face. “You always were a determined little shit when you set your mind on something.”

“I had a good teacher.” Spencer shot back.

That earned him a full blown laugh. When Gabriel looked at him again, his eyes were twinkling with familiar mirth and he was grinning. There was just a hint of worry hidden back in those amber depths for those that knew to see it but the rest was pure humor. “All right then, kiddo. I’m probably gonna regret this, but—all right.”

“Are you…are you sure?”

“Yeah. Dad knows it’s a stupid idea, but someone’s gotta be around to keep you idiots from getting killed. I guess that job falls to me.” He sighed noisily, like he was the most put-upon being on the planet, and Spencer had to smother a smirk at that. It didn’t work to well. Gabriel saw it and shoved lightly at him, grumbling “Shut up” before he pushed up to his feet and dragged Spencer up with him. “C’mon, brat, let’s get you back to the Winchesters before they send out a search party. I’m sure they’ll be just thrilled to meet their newest teammate.”

The realization of what he was about to do hit Spencer and wiped his smile away. He was about to go with his father to a small motel room, with the _Winchesters_ , two people who had pretty much every reason to hate the Trickster, and Castiel, who might very well harbor resentment towards the archangel who had abandoned Heaven. And right smack dab in the center was going to be Spencer. He was going to have to not only explain himself to the other side now, he was going to have to play mediator between all parties. Groaning lowly, he shot Gabriel his most pitiful look, the one he usually reserved for when he was in the most trouble and really wanted to find a way out of it. “Can’t I stay here while _you_ go and explain it to them?”

Gabriel’s grin was positively devious. “No chance, little fox. Consider this part of your punishment for keeping secrets and lying to me.”

Spencer's groan echoed around them as they vanished from the safe house.

CXCX

When Spencer appeared in the brothers’ motel room, he found them already arguing at top volume, with Castiel standing silently off to the side watching them. His arrival drew immediate attention and three sets of eyes turned towards him. It was right then that Spencer realized that his ever-so-wonderful father had actually dropped him off here and then _left_. He’d actually _left_. Spencer found himself scowling at the place where Gabriel had been just seconds before. Dammit! Annoyed, he sent up a prayer to the archangel, knowing it would be heard. _‘Thank you ever so much for leaving me to deal with the fallout of this, father of mine. These boys hold such_ love _for you.’_ He hoped his Dad could hear the layers of sarcasm on that.

It was only a second later that he heard Gabriel’s voice in his head, just talking not through prayer, and that told him that while the archangel had left them he hadn’t gone far. He was still close enough for a telepathic conversation. At least for now. _‘I warned you, consider this part of your punishment.’_ There was a short pause, followed by ‘ _Remind Dean-o that I’ve already killed him, plenty of times, and I’m not afraid to do it again if he actually tries to lay a hand on you.’_

Somehow, Spencer had a feeling starting this conversation out with threats wouldn’t exactly get him very far.

He didn’t end up having to be the one to start the conversation. In the time it took Spencer to have his mental conversation, the others recovered from his surprise landing and they’d all firmly turned their attention to him. Spencer could feel the anger in the room and he took an instinctive step back. That only prompted Dean’s march forward. True to form, he didn’t waste any time getting straight to the heart of the matter. “Why didn’t you tell us your Dad was the damn _Trickster_?” He snarled out.

“I told you before why I didn’t want to involve him.” Spencer answered, trying to keep his voice calm in the hopes of not setting Dean off any worse than he already was. Eyes sliding over towards Sam, the one here whose opinion mattered most, Spencer tried not to wince when he saw the slightly hurt, slightly shuttered look there. Crap. “I’m sorry you guys are upset, but you have to understand, I was protecting him.”

_‘Who said I need protecting?’_ Gabriel’s voice drifted through his mind.

Spencer almost growled. _This is going to be difficult enough without your witty commentary!_

_Pfft. Everything is better with my witty commentary._

Great. Two conversations at once; this was going to be a lot of fun.

“Since when does he need protection?” Dean demanded, interrupting Spencer's internal conversation and eerily echoing Gabriel. “He’s a freaking _archangel_! You should’ve told us you’ve got an archangel on your side. I don’t care if he’s been hiding or not, you should’ve at least gone to him for help earlier!”

“I warned you before how he’d react. I’m lucky he brought me back at all. He didn’t have to let me be here.” Spencer warned him. For all his bravado before in telling Gabriel that he’d just find a way to break out, he knew that if his father really wanted to hold him there wouldn’t be anything Spencer could do to stop him. Not without doing things he’d promised himself a long time ago that he wouldn’t unless he absolutely had to.

“Last I checked, you’re a grown man. You can make your own decisions.” Dean said.

For the first time since Spencer had come in, Castiel spoke up, saying Dean’s name in a low voice. “Dean…” He reached out and put his hand on Dean’s arm, though his eyes never left Spencer. They hadn’t for once second since he’d arrived. “You do not understand. While Spencer might be an adult by human standards, he is not by ours. Nephilim do not age like humans do. To use your terminology, he is still a young child.”

“He’s right.” Spencer agreed, looking over them all, trying and failing to catch Sam’s eye. His charge wasn’t looking directly at him and his face had become a calm mask, one that worried Spencer, though he didn’t let it show in his voice. He kept calm as he continued to explain. “Nephilim age differently. I’ll reach full physical maturity at thirty. Though, I might continue to age. We’re not sure.”

“What do you mean?” Sam asked. It was the first question he’d had.

Though Sam’s tone was still flat, Spencer couldn’t help but jump to answer his question, wanting to explain himself to his friend. “I’m not typical, even for a nephilim. At least not right now. See, angels will always be angels unless they rip out their grace. That’s the only way they can become human. But nephilim have grace and soul both already. We can sort of, choose, which side we lean more towards. A nephilim can suppress their grace far enough that they’ll essentially be human. That’s what I do. I can’t make it go away completely, of course, but I’ve got my grace locked down tight enough that I’m mostly human. I heal a little faster than a human does and I require less sleep and sustenance but I can be killed by normal, human means.”

“And if you stopped locking it down?” Dean asked.

Spencer shrugged one shoulder in a gesture far more casual than he truly felt. “I’d basically be an angel, just one with a soul. I’d heal like they do. Regular angel blades wouldn’t kill me, either. It’d have to be the blade of an archangel. And my power would be a whole lot stronger.”

That apparently wasn’t what they were expecting. The room went quiet for a moment and Spencer could feel some of the anger fading away underneath their curiosity. That curiosity was strong enough to get past whatever odd things Sam was feeling and spark a bit of his natural curiosity in him. “So why don’t you? All that power, man. I’ve read just how powerful the nephilim can be. Or, at least, what was suspected.”

“Exactly.” Spencer said lowly. He closed his eyes for a minute, pushing back thoughts he didn’t want to think. “I don’t want ‘all that power’. I just wanted to grow up and live a normal life. Maybe later, when I’m older, I’ll let go. Join my family and see what life can be like. But I wanted one human lifetime.”

“Why not now, though?” Dean asked him. “I mean, with the apocalypse going you’d think you’d want all the extra juice and healing you could get.”

“This isn’t about me and my powers.” Spencer said. He drew in a breath to steady himself and opened his eyes once more. With a steady gaze, he looked from one to the other. “I know that all of you are upset with me right now. I understand that, truly I do. But there’s no changing the past. All we can do is move forward from here. If you want to know why he’s stayed out, or if you want to be furious over the things he’s done with you, I’d ask that you take it up with him. My father though he may be, that doesn’t make me his keeper, nor does it mean that I understand even half of what he does. I can respect that you don’t like him. However, I ask that you respect that he is, in fact, my father, and I don’t want to have to constantly hear him badmouthed. The person he is around you isn’t the one he is around me. You see the Trickster. Loki. Even Gabriel. That’s who he is with you. But with me—he’s just my Dad and I love him.”

Spencer didn’t give them any time to say anything to that. He turned to face Sam and finally managed to catch his eye. “Sam, I need to speak with you for a moment.” With no more warning than that, he took a few steps forward and caught Sam’s arm. The wind whipped around them and they were gone.

When they landed, he immediately let go of Sam’s arm, watching as the younger Winchester looked all around him, eyes a little wide. “Where are we?”

“One of my safe houses.” Spencer answered. He waved a hand dismissively, brushing past that. “That’s not important. Are we okay, Sam?”

That cut off Sam’s wandering gaze rather quickly. He looked back at Spencer, first with surprise, then with that same shuttered look as before. “Boy, you’re to the point, aren’t you?” He murmured. It wasn’t really a question, though.  It took him a moment before he decided to speak again. When he did, he gave Spencer the same honesty that Spencer had given him. “Your Dad’s been a recurring star in quite a few of my nightmares.”

“I imagine he has.” Curling his hands into his pockets, Spencer tried to keep his cool. “But that was him, Sam, not me. What’s between you two is just that—between you two.” He could see that his words weren’t quite getting through. He tipped his head a little and caught Sam’s eye again. “Should I hold you accountable for the things that John Winchester’s done, then?” He asked carefully.

That barb struck home. Sam flinched from it, temper splashing over his features. He opened his mouth as if to argue only to snap it shut again. Just as quickly as the temper had hit, it faded, leaving him with that same open expression that Spencer had come to see as normal for the hunter. The one that told him that they were okay. “Point taken.” Opening his eyes, Sam smiled. It was a weak one, but it as there.

There was so much more Spencer wanted to say there. But he never got the chance. His cell phone rang and he couldn’t just ignore that. The only person that would be calling him would be someone from work. Gesturing at Sam to give him a moment, he flipped out his phone and answered. “Dr. Reid.”

_“Hey, Reid. Hate to bug you, but we’ve got a case. Everyone is on their way in. It’s a nasty one.”_

Spencer resisted the urge to sigh and settled for pinching the bridge of his nose. What great timing. This work juggling business was starting to become a pain the ass. He tried not to let his annoyance show in his tone. “I’m on my way, JJ, thanks.” Hanging up his phone, he looked up at Sam, who was watching him curiously. “I’ve got to go. We’ve got a case—a bad one, apparently. I can drop you off at the motel or you’re more than welcome to hang around here for a while and relax before going back. I can’t imagine your brother is in the best of moods. It might be a good idea to give him time to cool off.”

“Um, if you leave, I don’t exactly have a way back home.” Sam pointed out.

Oh, yeah. Duh. Spencer chuckled at himself. Idiot. He was still a little topsy-turvy and not quite thinking right. A wave of his hand brought out an old fashioned key which he handed over to Sam. “Here, take this. That key will work in any lock, even if it doesn’t look like it will. All you have to do is put it in the lock, twist, and when you open the door it’ll bring you here. Then when you leave again, the door will take you back to where you started. Since I brought you here, the doors not keyed to take you back to the motel, so I’ll go ahead and set it up. But in the future, just use that key whenever you need to get away for a little while, or if you boys need a safe place to go. This is my smaller, more basic safe house, but it has a few bedrooms you guys can use. I’ve sort of tidied up and made this place human-safe. I’ve been meaning to give you that key for a little while now.” At Sam’s stunned look, he shrugged, blushing slightly. “Treat this place like it’s your own. It’s nothing fancy, but it’s warded against everything but Grandfather himself.“

Sam’s eyes were wide. “Wow.”

Mind already half towards the upcoming case, Spencer waved a hand over himself, changing his clothes to his work clothes. “The kitchen is fully stocked.” He said, adjusting his gun on his belt and making sure his credentials were in the messenger bag he’d brought over. “Also, there’s a small library, south side of the house, third door on the right. I made sure all the books in there are safe. I just ask that you don’t take them out of the house. Like I said before, make yourselves at home, bring your brother and Castiel, I don’t mind. I’ll get a hold of you once the case is done but if you need me before then, don’t hesitate to pray or text.”

The smile Sam gave him was warm and bright. “Thank you, Spencer. Really—thank you. This is fantastic.”

He shrugged again and tried not to be embarrassed. With one final wave, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeah, I know you all totally saw that coming, lol. It wasn't really a surprise. :)
> 
> Now, there's two chapters that I have planned for this section left. Then there will be a small break while I put together the chapters of the next story, which will take us through the end of the apocalypse. That means, though, that if you haven't voted in the poll for pairings (or commented) you should do so soon, because I'll be closing it when I finish this story. The romance starts up a bit in the next story :)
> 
> I hope you guys enjoyed this and I'm sorry if it didn't come out okay. I've never written Gabriel before :P Thank you for all your comments so far! You guys are great!!


	8. Chapter 8

Spencer wasn’t surprised when he didn’t hear much from Sam for the next few days. The case took up most of his time anyways and he didn’t have time to press for anything more than the couple texts he got that were just basically them touching base with one another and Sam thanking Spencer for the use of his home. Otherwise, it was pretty radio silent. Honestly, Spencer was kind of glad about that. He didn’t think he could handle any drama from that direction right now. Lately he’d been so caught up in the supernatural half of his life he’d forgotten just how bad things could get in the human half. Sure, he’d been on cases lately, and no case was ever easy, but cases like this one really brought home to him just how twisted and perverted human beings could be.

A little sore and a lot tired, he practically dragged himself off the jet. Derek insisted on taking him home and for once Spencer didn’t even think to protest. He didn’t want to even try finding himself a cab back home and he didn’t want to fly if he didn’t have to. This case had knocked him down, twisted his insides, and left him with that sick, slick feeling in his stomach that he’d never gotten when dealing with monsters. As Spencer curled up in the passenger’s seat of Derek’s car, he wondered how on earth anyone could claim that vampires or werewolves or banshees were the monsters. Closing his eyes, he rested his face on the cool glass. Clearly none of those people had ever seen what a human being was capable of. They’d never seen the things a man can do to fifteen year old boys. Never seen the mess he left behind. Never saw him laugh as he told each and every single gory detail while his cock grew blatantly hard in his pants.

Spencer fought to swallow down the bile that burned his throat.

He was grateful for the friends he had. Though they’d all been on this case, each and every one of them knew just how hard it’d been for Spencer. Not just because he’d been the one to actually capture the Unsub—and he hadn’t done it alone, anyways, Derek had been right there behind him and he’d helped to pin the guy down so they could get the cuffs on him—but because the Unsub had willingly given them a confession, on the condition that it was Spencer he gave it to. He’d ‘taken a liking to him’, he’d said. Something simple like that, how could they refuse? It wasn’t the first confession Spencer had ever heard and it wouldn’t be the last. He’d willingly gone in there and listened as Royal McQuinn had listed off in excruciating detail every single thing he’d done to the teenage boys that he’d picked up in the city and taken back to his farm. He’d listened, watching the man laugh, watching that manic grin of his, watched even as the guy had started to rub at himself while talking about it, and he’d had to fight back the urge to throw up from the disgusting thoughts that screamed out from Royal even while he spoke. Mental illness always seemed to make a person’s thoughts stronger and harder to ignore and this time had been no different. Spencer had heard, and seen, what Royal was thinking, loud and in Technicolor. Those were images he’d never be able to get rid of no matter how many times he showered.

“Hey, kid. We’re here.”

Derek’s low voice brought Spencer's attention out of his head and back to the real world. He blinked and looked up to find that, wow, they really were at his apartment. How had they gotten here so fast? Spencer fumbled with his seatbelt for a moment until Derek reached out and silently pressed the button for him. Neither one mentioned it. Nor did they comment on the fact that Derek got out of the car with him and followed him inside. Spencer didn’t even have to look at Derek’s mind to know that his friend was worried about him and was following him because of that. Because he wanted to make sure Spencer was going to be okay—and that he wasn’t going to use again. Spencer didn’t care. Let him follow.

He fumbled for his keys in his pocket when they reached his door. Only, just as he found them and was starting to pull them out, his door swung open. It was a testament to how on edge this case had put them when both he and Derek took an immediate step back and reached for their weapons. Spencer had his gun in hand before he’d even had a chance to think.

When he saw the person standing in his doorway, he lowered his gun, gesturing at Derek to do the same. Gabriel just leaned against the doorframe and crossed his arms over his chest, grinning broadly at him. “Damn, kiddo, your reflexes have gotten good.”

“I could’ve shot you.” Spencer said flatly. He sighed as he started to holster his gun.

Gabriel shrugged one shoulder negligently. “Not the first time I’ve been shot at.”

Sighing again, Spencer shook his head. He had no idea what Gabriel was doing here and right now he didn’t really care. He wanted in his home and in his shower. Maybe after he boiled his skin off for at least twenty minutes he might feel human enough to actually talk to someone. He was just alert enough to remember to use their usual cover, at least. “Morgan, this is Ki, an old family friend who apparently decided to stop by and visit without warning me. Ki, this is Derek Morgan, my coworker and friend who is following me up here to make sure I don’t get high.” Spencer said bluntly. He hefted his bag up again and moved into his apartment and past Gabriel, who’d pulled back out of the way to let him pass. Dropping his bag by the closet, Spencer tossed out over his shoulder “I’m going to take a shower. Feel free to toss my apartment, Morgan. There’s nothing here. Try to put all my socks back in place this time when you’re done, please.” And without another word, he went down the hall and straight into the bathroom. Maybe he’d been a little short back there, a little rude, but there was only so far a person could go and Spencer had reached his limit about three hours ago.

He stripped down, waving a hand to send his gun to the safe in his room, and then he cranked the shower on as hot as he could stand it and climbed underneath the spray with a whimper that would’ve been pitiful if anyone could’ve heard it.

He stayed under the shower spray for what was probably an obscene amount of time. Not once did the water start to cool on him though he knew his water heater wasn’t that powerful. A benefit of having his father visiting, he figured. It’d been quite a while since Gabriel had stopped by here to visit him. Since before the apocalypse. Well, technically, since before Dean went to hell and the angels started to make regular forays down here to earth. Apparently coming out to the Winchesters meant that he was going to start visiting again. Any other time and Spencer might’ve given that the thought it deserved. For now, he was just sadly, pathetically grateful for it.

Leaning forward, he let the water run over his face and tried not to think about the kids who wouldn’t be going home tonight, the parents who would never be able to see their kids again. They’d never be able to see them grow, come and visit them at home, nag them about eating or dressing warm or any of those thousand random things that parents worried about.

Before the thoughts could start to build too much he jerked back and wrenched the shower off. He pulled open the curtain and found a towel waiting there for him as well as a fresh pair of boxers and sweatpants. His dirty work clothes were gone. Spencer dried off silently and dressed himself. Rolling his shoulders, trying to work out the kinks in his back and the ache in his wings, he blew out a breath and then made his way out of the bathroom.

When he reached his living room he had to stop for a moment just to stare. Sometime during his shower his living room had been changed around. The couch was moved back, the coffee table was pushed to one side and stacked with food, there was a fireplace against the wall that definitely hadn’t been there before, and his most comfortable chair had been moved close to the fire and the coffee table. Gabriel was comfortably ensconced in the wing backed chair, legs stretched out towards the fire and a book in his hands. Tolkien, Spencer saw. It was one of his favorite authors. He’d read the books to Spencer when he was younger.

Gabriel looked up at the soft sound of Spencer's footsteps. A snap of the fingers had the book vanishing and a giant cushion appearing on the ground at his feet. “Get on over here.”

There was no need for him to explain. Spencer knew this routine well. It’d been a while since they’d done it, though. He had to admit he was probably in desperate need of it. Still, as he strolled forward, he felt obligated to remind him “I’ll probably fall asleep.”

That got him a snort and a smirk. “Probably?”

Okay, so ‘probably’ was the wrong word to use. It was pretty much a given that he’d end up going to sleep. He did every single time. Still, he didn’t protest it as he folded himself down onto the cushion, noting as he did that their seats had been angled just right and things moved off to the sides. Even the coffee table was more in front of him than beside him, set up perfectly to work as a table for the dinner that sat on it. As soon as Spencer was settled onto his cushion, he felt a tap at his shoulder, the sign that let him know his father was ready. With a thought, Spencer blew out a breath and opened up the part of himself only family had ever truly seen. Two sets of wings unfurled from his bag and extended wide out to either side of him. He gave in to the urge and simply let them stretch out as best as he could. The size of his living room was one of the reasons that he’d picked this place. Still, it wasn’t usually big enough to house his wings perfectly, not like this, and that told him that Gabriel was giving things a ‘helping hand’. Ah, well, he wasn’t going to complain. It felt good to stretch without worrying about knocking anything over.

He gave a pleased hum at the warm burn of the stretch before relaxing back and letting them pull in close again. Only when he was settled did he feel warm, familiar hands touch them near the base, right by his spine. “Geeze, kiddo, when was the last time you did this? They’re a mess!” Gabriel scolded. Those fingers lingered only for a second on tense muscles and then they slid up and into his feathers and Spencer was sighing again as his father started to groom his wings. The sensation was something that he doubted he could describe to anyone. It was pleasant, relaxing and soothing. Almost like having someone card their fingers through your hair, only more so, and yet not quite the same at all. He couldn’t describe it.

Closing his eyes, he let his chin dip towards his chest and he gave a low hum in lieu of answering.  Nothing relaxed him quicker or better than having his wings groomed.

Gabriel chuckled lowly. “Start eating something, Fox. I want food in you before you pass out on me here.”

“’M not hungry.” Spencer mumbled.

“I didn’t ask if you were hungry.”

An annoyed grumbled built in Spencer's throat. Still, he reached out and grabbed the first thing his hand fell on. It turned out to be a ham and cheese biscuit, a favorite of his. He peeked up through his bangs and eyed the food on the table. For the first time since he’d come out, he actually paid attention to what the food was and realized that his father had filled it not only with Spencer's favorites, but with the foods that fell into the category of ‘comfort food’. Everything had the comfort vibe around it. The food, the drinks—if his nose was right, that smelled like hot white chocolate, and no one made hot white chocolate as good as Gabriel—the fireplace, the slightly softer lights, the grooming. All comfort things and all because Spencer had come home in one hell of a foul mood. This was the side of the archangel that no one else but his children got to see.

Spencer made his way through a bit of the food while listening as Gabriel launched into a story about his latest prank against Thor. Those stories were always worth a smile. Thor, despite what one might think was always good for a prank or two and had learned over the years to retaliate in kind. By the time Spencer gave up on food and moved to the cocoa, Gabriel had finished his story and finished with the bottom left wing and was moving to the primary one. Spencer sighed into his drink and let the touch relax him a little more.

He didn’t really intend to start talking. Even if he had, he wouldn’t have wanted to talk about _this_. What he wanted was to forget about this horrendous case. Apparently, his mind had other ideas. “I don’t understand humans.” He found himself saying as he stared down at the liquid in his favorite big mug. “I grew up mostly human, I’ve tried to be one, and I’ve taken all the college courses I could to understand the way humans feel and think, but I don’t think I’ll ever truly understand them.”

“Not all humans are like the ones you hunt, kiddo. You know that.” Gabriel reminded him gently.

A low sigh slid from Spencer. “I know. I just, cases like this, they—I don’t understand them. I’ve worked at the BAU for years, hunted evil plenty of times, yet there are still cases like this one that remind me just how much I don’t understand. Sometimes, I don’t think I want to.” His hands tightened around his mug and he had to fight to keep his strength in check so that he wouldn’t crush the cup. “The things he did to those boys. They were just babies, Dad. They were teenagers, but they were just babies, and the things he did to them…” A shudder ran down Spencer's body and his wings trembled.

One of Gabriel’s hands dropped out of his feathers to press flat in that patch of skin between the base of his wings. With a firm touch, he rubbed up and down, a gesture meant to soothe. It was the place that muscles tended to knot up from supporting the wings, or from working to keep them hidden, and the firm pressure was pushing those knots out and forcibly relaxing him until Spencer was almost melting underneath the touch.

“You caught him, Fox.” The low hum of Gabriel’s voice held that extra edge to it that Spencer had always associated with his grace. It wasn’t a commanding voice, wasn’t one that forced him to do anything. It was just edged with a little more of his true voice than his human voice in a way that gave his words that little extra punch. “I know it was hard, but you guys did a damn good job and he’s gonna go away for a long time. An if he doesn’t, I’ll hunt him down myself. He’ll learn his lesson one way or another.”

“You can’t hunt down every Unsub we catch that doesn’t get convicted.”

He heard a low snort behind him and that little push of power in Gabriel’s voice is gone now. He’s back to his usual, slightly snarky sounding self. “Says you.”

Spencer was going to say something else to argue that but his words escaped him when a particular section of feathers were straightened back into place. He let out a low sigh that was almost a moan and his body slumped down.

The sound of Spencer's phone going off interrupted the silence that had fallen over them. Spencer didn’t even entertain the thought of getting up and going to his messenger bag where his phone was at. He just gave a small flick of the wrist and his phone appeared in his hand. He unlocked it and opened up the message. When he read it, he couldn’t help it, he let out a laugh.

SW: _You won’t believe this,_ the message read. _Dean and I are at a convention. A SUPERNATURAL convention._

SW: _What do you think the punishment is for strangling a prophet? I won’t kill him, I promise!_

Amused, Spencer read the message out loud, enjoying the laugh that Gabriel let out. “A Supernatural convention?” Gabriel asked, his voice full of undisguised glee. “There’s a _convention_ for this and I didn’t know about it?”

“I don’t think those poor people are equipped to handle you, Dad.” Spencer murmured as he replied to Sam’s message.

“Hey!” Gabriel protested. “I’ll have you know there are plenty of Trickster fans! They _love_ me.”

The only reply Spencer gave to that was a snort. It earned him a light tug on his feathers that had him turning to glare over his shoulder. Gabriel just smirked. Rolling his eyes, Spencer turned back to his phone.

SR: _Heaven tends to frown on prophet abuse_

SW: _Think we could sic your Dad on him?_

Another laugh bubbled up from Spencer. This one was a mixture of amusement and relief. If Sam was making jokes like that, things couldn’t be too bad in their little group. In that random, saying-it-without-saying-it way the Winchesters worked, he was basically telling Spencer that he was okay with things. Or, at the least, accepting of them. Learning to speak Winchester was hard but he was slowly getting the hang of it. It was kind of like picking up on a new and strange language without the benefit of a translator.

SR: _Wow, you must really dislike this guy_

SW: _He’s selling books about our life. SELLING THEM._

“I don’t think the boys are fans of the books.” Spencer said, arching one wing up to put it in better reach. He sighed happily when Gabriel’s fingers found and fixed a particularly tender spot.

SR: _One day, the W Gospels will be very important._

SR: _Respect the fandom, S. Respect it._

SW: _I hate you._

That last message just made Spencer laugh once more. He sent out one final reply, a ‘ _Don’t have too much fun’_ and then set his phone back on the coffee table. As amusing as the conversation was, he could feel his eyes getting heavy the longer that Gabriel worked. It always happened to him. The soothing ministrations never failed to put him to sleep.

By the time Gabriel switched to the right hand side, Spencer was slumped forward, knees up to his chest and arms folded over them to make a pillow. He was out only moments later.

He woke only briefly when his wings were done, just long enough to sleepily follow his Dad’s directions to tuck his wings back in, and then he was drifting away once more while familiar arms picked him up. He was asleep again before they even made it to his bedroom.

CXCX

It wasn’t until after work the next day that Spencer finally had enough free time to do more than send a quick text Sam’s way. He got off work and sent out a message, getting a quick response that let him know where the brothers were. Moments later, Spencer was landing in the living room of his safe house. The brothers were both there, looking perfectly at home as they cleaned and prepared their weapons. Spencer watched them for just a moment as Sam set aside the shotgun he’d just finished with and moved on to the next. Dean was pouring what Spencer guessed was Holy water from a jug into smaller containers. Their other weapons were spread out around them on sheets that covered part of the couch and another one that covered the coffee table.

“You know,” Spencer said, startling Dean and drawing both brothers’ attention. “I find it a little worrisome that I can’t quite tell whether you guys are just having a relaxing evening in, or if you’re preparing to go to war.”

“Kind of a little bit of both, actually.” Dean answered. His voice wasn’t as relaxed as it had been getting around Spencer before, but it didn’t have the anger that had been there the last time Spencer had seen him. Spencer hoped it meant that Dean wasn’t that angry with him anymore. Then again, he’d learned watching these boys that Dean could hold one hell of a grudge when he wanted. It was going to take more than sharing a safe house with them to get Dean to start to like him again. He’d have to settle for grudging acceptance for the moment.

“We’re relaxing right now.” Sam explained when he saw Spencer was a bit confused by Dean’s remark. “But we’ve got plans to head out tonight.” He looked up at Spencer and there was a bit of hope in his eyes. “We found out who has the Colt.”

“What?” They’d found it? Spencer gaped at them a bit. “You found it? And you didn’t call me?”

Sam gave him a slightly sheepish look. “I was going to, but we got caught up in things and then you messaged me, so I figured I’d just tell you once you were here.”

“Besides,” Dean interrupted, brows drawn down in a hard stare. “We’ve hunted fine on our own for years. We don’t need to call you in for everything.”

Choosing to ignore that for the moment, and the older hunter, Spencer focused on Sam. “Where is it?”

“A demon has it. Cas followed him for us, so we’ve got a location, and we’ve got a plan to get in there, too. I was kind of hoping you’d be our backup.”

Dean shook his head. “He can’t, Sammy.” Turning to Spencer, he added “You can’t. Cas said the place is covered in Enochian warding sigils. Angels can’t get in.”

“I’m not an angel.” Spencer reminded him, smirking just a little. “Warding sigils tend to be very specific. I highly doubt it’s going to be warded against a nephilim. Now, do you know the name of the demon?”

“He goes by Crowley.” Sam said.

Well that hadn’t been what Spencer was expecting. He startled visibly and his eyes went a little wide. Crowley? _Crowley_ had the gun? That was simultaneously better and worse than he’d hoped for. He was the type that would be willing to deal, for the right price, and Spencer's presence would help make sure that the price didn’t go too high. At the same time, he was an expert at making a deal, and he was fussy about certain things. Them coming in after him wouldn’t make him all that happy. “Crowley’s more of a businessman than a troublemaker, but he’s ambitious and devious. My presence should throw him off enough to work in your favor.”

“Wait, you know Crowley?” Sam asked, surprised. Dean, however, looked suspicious. “How do you know Crowley?”

“Well…” A hint of a blush touched Spencer's cheeks. He tried to hide it, to turn his head away just enough, but it was too late. They’d both seen it and he knew by the disgusted look that covered Dean’s face that he, at least, understood, even if Sam still looked a little confused.

“Oh, this is great.” Dean said sarcastically. His lip curled up in a sneer. “No wonder you and Sammy get along so well. You’ve got the same taste in bed partners.”

Spencer would’ve taken an insult about himself, but when he saw Sam flinch back from his brother’s words and sharp tone, he didn’t bother holding his tongue. “You really wanna talk to me about bed partners, Winchester?” Spencer asked, arching one eyebrow. “What about that barmaid down in New Orleans. What was her name? Tilly? Timmy?”

It was extremely satisfying to watch the color bleed out of Dean’s face before it all rushed back, right into his cheeks. His attempt to glare was completely offset by the deep blush. “You shut your cake hole.”

Spencer's smirk grew. “That’s what I thought. Don’t be so quick to judge. Besides, Crowley and I mostly have a working relationship. That…it was just one time. Trust me, I learned my lesson.” Turning to Sam, he flashed a smile. “Never, ever drink the punch at one of Kali’s parties. You never know who or what you might wake up with. Or where.”

“Kali?” Sam said, surprise on his face,

Holding out a hand towards his brother to quiet him, Dean pulled them back to the topic at hand by snapping “Can we get back on track here? You know, the Colt, Crowley, _killing the devil_? Any of that ring a bell?”

Dean’s sharp reminder had Spencer straightening back up. Right. Important things now, stories later. He cleared his throat and rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. “Right. Sorry.” Moving forward, he perched himself on the arm of the couch furthest from Dean and settled in, folding his hands in his lap. “So, what’s the plan?”

CXCX

Their plan was a simple one. With the help of Jo, a Hunter friend of theirs, they got in through the front gates of Crowley’s place. Spencer didn’t point out that he could’ve just flown them in. He assumed they’d thought of that and, for some reason or another, had decided against it. Probably because of Dean’s aversion to flying of any form. From what he’d seen the older Winchester didn’t even like it when Castiel flew him someplace. Since Dean didn’t like it, naturally Sam didn’t even suggest using it, because there was no one who knew Dean better and he knew the futility of trying to force his older brother into doing something he didn’t like to do. Plus, as he’d once quietly told Spencer when they’d been talking outside one night, “He won’t admit it, but he can whine like nobody’s business when he doesn’t get his way.”

Remembering that had Spencer smiling slightly to himself. He was staying back in the shadows, watching as Sam and Dean rushed forward to take out the two demons that were coming for Jo. Backup, Sam had called him, and backup he would be. No point in revealing his presence too soon. He kept out of the way and kept his shields up tight so as not to be sensed. He’d been right on the wards; they didn’t keep him out. However, he’d failed to mention to the boys the strain that it put on him. While he wasn’t full angel, he _was_ part, and that was enough for them to at least weaken him.

He moved quietly and stealthily behind the boys. It kind of amused him to do it. Wouldn’t the team be surprised to see how silently he could move? They’d seen him trip over his own two feet walking across a flat surface before. Oh, man, that had been something he hadn’t lived down for _weeks_.

It really was easy for them to get inside and lay out their trap. The power was out, they’d laid out a carp with a devil’s trap on the other side of it, they were all prepared for just about anything. So, of course, none of it went according to plan. Spencer kept hidden and watched as Crowley appeared at the end of the hall and things got started.

“It’s Crowley, right?” Sam called out.

Crowley stopped, a slight smile ghosting across his face. “So…the Hardy Boys finally found me.” He smiled a little. “Took you long enough.”

When he strolled towards them, blatantly ignoring the guns pointed his way, Spencer took advantage of the moment to look him over and he had to admit that the demon looked just the same as he had last time he’d seen him, and just as good. Maybe it was bad but he’d always been unable to help admiring him in his suit. He always did look good in a suit.

He was almost on the carpet they’d laid out, the one with the devil’s trap hidden on it, when he stopped. One look told Spencer what mistake they’d made. There was a wrinkle at the end of it. Bending down, Crowley flipped the edge just enough to see underneath. He shook his head as he straightened back up. “Do you have any idea how much this rug costs?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, two demons appeared and Spencer jerked in his hiding place as he watched them grab the boys from behind. His first instinct was to dart forward and smite the two bastards who dared to touch the Winchesters. But he held his tongue, waiting just a moment, a few things in here not adding up quite right. He watched as Crowley pulled out the Colt, holding it up and pulling back the hammer. “This is it, right? This is what it’s all about?” He leveled the gun at the brothers and Spencer watched, his brain already having caught on to what was going on, as Crowley shot first one demon and then the other before calmly telling them “We need to talk. Privately.”

The group headed down the hall to what looked to be Crowley’s office. Spencer flew ahead and, just for amusement’s sake, sat himself on the desk to wait for them. In dark jeans and a black shirt that said ‘Come to the Nerd side – We have Pi’, and with his hair up into a messy ponytail, he was in a look he knew would irritate the hell out of the demon, who for some reason was always personally offended by what he referred to as a ‘lack of sensible fashion’. It had become a bit of a thing any time they met. Spencer made sure to dress just to annoy him.

The office door opened and Spencer leaned back on his hands, one leg crossed over the other and foot bouncing, the items on the desk carelessly shoved to the side in another deliberate attempt to annoy him. Here, he wasn’t going to be Spencer, not in the way the boys knew. He was Loki’s son and that was a persona that didn’t often come out to play. There was a part of him that was very much the Trickster’s son and that part enjoyed it immensely when Crowley stepped into the room and startled at the sight of him. Amused, Spencer let his lips curl up into a smirk. “Hello, Crowley.”

“Fox. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.” The only thing that gave away his true surprise was the slight arch of an eyebrow. Otherwise, he kept his composure, walking over to the small bar and serving himself a drink. “As you can see, now’s not the best time. I’m in the middle of some business.”

“Oh, I know.” Pushing up, Spencer leaned forward, uncrossing his legs and curling his hands over the edge of the desk.

It only took a second for realization to hit. Amusement danced in the demon’s eyes as they traveled over Spencer and to the Winchesters. “Well, well, things _have_ changed in these desperate times. Who would’ve imagined the infamous Winchesters working with the pagans?” His eyes came back to Spencer again. “I thought you had better taste than that, darling.”

Spencer arched a brow at him and deliberately looked him over from head to toe. He brought his eyes back to Crowley’s face and let his smirk grow. “I’ve always considered myself possessed of rather good taste.”

“Okay, I think I’m gonna be sick.” Dean grumbled. “Can we get down to business here? I’d rather not watch the two of you _flirt_.”

Crowley shook his head as he brought two drinks over to the desk, holding one out towards Spencer, an amused look on his face. “I think we’ve made him uncomfortable.”

“I can’t imagine why.” Spencer said mockingly. He carefully extended a small tendril of grace to test the drink he held, just to be cautious. When he was sure that it was clear he lifted it and took a small sip, humming happily at the flavor. Crowley always did have good taste in alcohol. “However, he’s right. Let’s get down to business. You know why we’re here, Crowley. Dare I say, you _led_ these boys here.”

“Led us here?” Sam asked.

Crowley nodded. “Rumors, innuendo…sent out on the grapevine.”

The two brothers exchanged a look. “Why? Why tell us anything?” Sam asked.

Taking another drink from his glass, Spencer carefully watched the faces around him as he answered Sam’s question. “He wants you to kill Lucifer for him.”

That hadn’t been what they’d expected. They were good, though. They only showed their surprise for a moment and they recovered pretty quickly. These random moments, the little things that Spencer saw, showed him how the two had earned such a reputation in the hunting community. For all the trouble that had come their way, or the trouble they’d caused, they _were_ good at their job. They didn’t beat around the bush with dumb questions; Dean got right to the point in his usual, straightforward way. “Okay. And why exactly would you want the devil dead?”

It was a good question. Not that Crowley apparently thought so. The look he gave them was pitying, leaning heavily towards condescending. “It’s called _survival_. But I forgot you two, at best, are functioning morons.”

And then, for every moment that showed Spencer what good hunters these two were, how quick their minds were, there were moments such as this where he secretly wondered if one or the other had taken one too many blows to the head over the years. “Hey, _you’re_ functioning…morons.” Dean grumbled, trailing off and flushing ever so slightly as he failed to think up an appropriate insult. Sam and Spencer shared a look and Spencer had to smile at the purely little brother eye roll that Sam gave.

This could easily degenerate into a pissing match between the trio if they weren’t careful. To try and keep it from getting there, Spencer took over the conversation, bringing all eyes to him. “Think about it, boys. Lucifer, at heart, is still an angel, and he’s known for his hatred of humans. Can you really see him being all that fond of demons? He may have created them, but that doesn’t mean he loves them. He made them to serve and that’s what he’ll use them for. He’ll send them to their deaths in his war.” With his glass, he gestured to the demon beside him. “Now, Crowley here is, if nothing else, a survivalist. He has an amazingly strong sense of self-preservation and would think nothing of switching to the side most likely to guarantee his own survival, no matter which side that is.”

“Too true, darling.” Crowley agreed, lifting his glass in a toast. In a move that Spencer knew was meant to irritate Dean a little more, the demon leaned in a little closer and gave Spencer a smirk. “You know me so well.”

Pulling the gun out from his jacket, he tossed it towards Dean, who caught it quickly. The older Winchester checked the gun over as if trying to make sure that it was all there, that nothing was missing or damaged. When he looked back up, he fixed his glare on Crowley. “You better not be screwing with us.”

The demon scoffed. “Did you not hear the little brat over here? I look out for myself. The last thing I want to do is mess with your little group and incur the wrath of Loki. I like my life, thank you very much.”

There was a small gathering of power in the air, that little warning that Spencer had learned to recognize meant a demon was preparing to leave or arrive, and there was just one last thing he wanted to say before that happened. To catch his attention, the young nephilim called out “Crowley?” Spencer waited until the demon turned towards him and then he let his smile change into something sharp and dangerous, watching with satisfaction as Crowley took a small step back. Pleased, Spencer leaned forward a little, his voice dropping just a bit lower. “If you screw us over with this, you won’t have to worry about Loki, because I’ll hunt you down and take care of you myself.”

“Duly noted.” Crowley said dryly. He flicked his eyes over to the Winchesters and then back to Spencer. “Bullets are in the desk.” With no more warning than that, he was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So there was going to be more to this, but the chapter started getting long so I decided to go ahead and post what I have so far. That just means there'll be one more chapter than I'd originally planned. I didn't think you guys would mind


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, writing group scenes with multiple people talking isn't the easiest for me. I hope I did okay but it's one of my areas that needs practice, so please, keep that in mind when you read this :)

Spencer had to go back home after the meeting with Crowley; he had work in the morning. But it was going to take close to a day for the boys to get back to Bobby’s, so they agreed to all meet up there the next evening. Now that they had the Colt there was a lot that needed to be talked about and that meant everyone went to what was essentially their home base. It was going to be a big gathering with all their current players to discuss what they were going to do now. Well, all but one. No one had called Gabriel to join them. Spencer didn’t plan on it, either. His father had agreed to help them try and find a way to solve all of this without killing Lucifer. He wouldn’t stop them, Spencer knew, but that didn’t mean that he’d want to be here actively supporting this. That wasn’t something that Spencer would ever ask of him, anyways. Even if the others seemed to not think about it, not once did Spencer forget that this was Gabriel—and Castiel’s—brother that they were planning to kill. Spencer had to admit that he wasn’t all that fond of the idea, either. This was his Uncle. But the devil had to be stopped, no matter what, and if this was the only way to do it, so be it. He could mourn later.

Work ran just a little later than he’d thought it would, though Spencer thanked Grandfather that no case had cropped up yet. With things potentially coming to a head on the other side of his life the last thing he needed was for a case to crop up. He didn’t want to have to make the decision between which was more important. That was something he worried about every day. There was going to come a time, he knew, where he’d have to make the choice between the two, and neither option would leave him feeling all that great.

Though it was getting late, he took the time to change before he headed to Bobby’s. There was going to be others here tonight. Jo, whom he’d met last night, and her mother Ellen. Neither one of them really knew him and they had no idea that he was an FBI agent. He couldn’t exactly show up with his gun on his hip, though he’d gotten comfortable enough around the Winchesters that he didn’t always think about how he looked when he showed up anymore. Tonight, he made a point to put on comfortable clothes that fit the image he’d cultivated for this part of his life. Jeans again, his most well-worn and softest pair, and a plain t-shirt this time with Caltech hoodie over it. Dressed, his gun stashed, and his place locked up, he finally headed out.

Unsure of what Ellen and Jo had been told, Spencer was cautious about his arrival. He landed at the edge of Bobby’s property and walked the rest of the way in. He could hear the sound of voices once he reached the porch and he made sure to knock loud enough to be heard over them.

The door opened just a moment later and Spencer froze in place, eyes wide as he looked into Bobby’s face—directly in front of him, not right below him. Bobby was standing. Bobby was _standing._ “ _Singer_.”

“Hey there, mutt. Bout time you showed up.” Despite the gruff teasing, there was a wide grin on Bobby’s face.

For a second longer Spencer just stared. Then, he couldn’t help it. He wasn’t the touchy type with anyone outside of his immediate family but he leaned in now and wrapped Bobby up in a tight hug. The older hunter endured it for a brief moment, even squeezing him back, and then he was patting Spencer's shoulder and pulling back. “Come on now, enough of that. Quit your fussing and get on in here. We got a house full tonight an we been waiting on you.”

Spencer wasn’t that easily put off. He followed Bobby inside, shutting the door behind himself, while keeping his eyes on Bobby the entire time. “What happened, Singer? Please—tell me you didn’t do anything stupid. Tell me you didn’t make any deals.”

“No!” Bobby scowled at him. “I aint that much of an idjit, boy.”

“Then what happened?”

The two ended up in the kitchen. Normally, Spencer would’ve greeted the others, or taken time for proper introductions, but his attention was still firmly on Bobby. He was still caught up in watching him _walk_. If Bobby hadn’t made a deal, how had this happened? How was he healed?

Grabbing a beer from the fridge, Bobby popped the top and flicked it over to the sink. Then he turned around and leaned back against the counter. He looked mostly amused by Spencer's disbelief. Underneath, though, Spencer could see the shock, the joy at being once more on his feet after having lived with the thought that he’d be permanently in that chair. “I had a visitor the other day.” Bobby said, taking a pull off his beer. He cast an almost unnoticeable look towards the two women at the table—Jo, Spencer recognized, and a woman that must be Ellen—and then back to Spencer. His next words were carefully chosen. "Apparently I’ve got a better chance of keeping your ass safe if I’m on two feet.”

Wait a second—Gabriel had done this? _Gabriel_? He’d performed a miracle like this, something that undoubtedly alerted the whole of Heaven that he was alive, and the reason he gave was that he wanted Bobby better able to keep Spencer safe? That just didn’t make sense! Oh, sure, it made sense that Gabriel would help out, especially if he could cover up his reasons behind the failsafe one of keeping Spencer as safe as possible. But it didn’t make sense that he would give up his ‘witness protection’ to perform a miracle like that.

Unable to resist, Spencer found himself reaching out with his grace, stretching it towards Bobby. What he found had him relaxing a little and made things make a whole lot more sense. Very faint, just barely there, he could sense the faint residues of pagan magic around Bobby. Gabriel hadn’t come as the archangel to heal Bobby; he’d come as Loki. That persona was just as real as the rest of him. Pagan magic explained perfectly how Bobby had been healed without anything alerting the Host as to what was going on. Spencer relaxed, his tension bleeding away, and he gave a relieved and happy smile. “Well,” he said cheerfully. “Whatever the reasons behind it, I’m not going to complain. It’s good not to have to look down at you anymore, old man.”

“Bite me.” Bobby shot back.

Smile growing into a smirk, their usual banter setting him the rest of the way at ease, Spencer shook his head. “I don’t know where you’ve been.”

That got him a scowl and a grumbled “Shut up.” Ignoring Spencer's amusement, Bobby waved him forward. “Get over here, mutt, and show your manners. You met Jo last night. This is her Mama, Ellen. Ellen, this is Spencer.”

Ellen straightened up and smiled at him in a friendly sort of way, though the way she was looking at him was as sharp and assessing as any good hunter’s. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Spencer.” She said, sticking her hand out towards him.

He didn’t shake her hand, didn’t really think anything of it as he lifted his own and gave a small wave like he usually did when he met new people. “It’s a pleasure to meet you too, ma’am. I’ve heard lots of wonderful things about you.”

Jo made a sound of amusement from her seat at the table, smothering it in her drink, and Ellen shot her a warning look while dropping down her hand. When she turned back to Spencer, she was all cautious smiles again. “Wonderful, huh? Those boys must be sucking up for something.” She joked. At least, he thought it was a joke. He wasn’t quite sure. Her gaze never lost its sharp edge and he found himself shifting around a little underneath it. “I wish I could say the same about you, Spencer, but honestly, I haven’t heard a whole lot about you. How do you know those boys in there?” She gestured over one shoulder to Bobby’s living room, where Spencer could see Dean, Sam and Castiel watching everything unfold, not a one of those little bastards offering to come in and help. Not even Sam, the traitor! Spencer gave him a look that promised retribution later, getting a smirk in return.

“Ellie, no interrogating the boy.” Bobby said it like it was a reminder, as if he’d said it before Spencer had showed up. It didn’t really seem to deter her now.

Spencer held a hand out towards his friend to let him know that it was fine. He’d kind of expected this. Looking back to Ellen, the young nephilim smiled sort of shyly at her. “I met them through Singer here, actually. They needed some help and I was available to help, and I owe Singer a lot, so I went. I’ve been helping them out ever since then.”

“My daughter says you’re not human.” Ellen went on.

Ah, so that was the core of all this. She didn’t really care so much about the rest of it; this was what she’d wanted to get to. Not that he could blame her. In the lifestyle they lived, finding out that something ‘not human’ was working closely with people you cared about, no one was going to take that well. Another of the reasons why Spencer had once kept to himself. He gave a moment’s thought for the time when no one but Bobby had known anything about him. When not even Bobby had known he was an angel. Now it seemed like more and more people were finding out about him every day. _It’s going to be the death of me_. The thought was scary for just how true it was. Right now wasn’t the time to be thinking such macabre thoughts, though. Pushing them to the back of his mind, Spencer met her gaze head on, sure and steady. “No ma’am. Not completely.” He said agreeably. Without giving her a chance to respond, he turned and made his way towards the trio in the living room. “So, gentlemen, how goes the planning?”

“Pretty good, actually.” Sam answered him. He shifted in his chair, getting more comfortable as Spencer got close. Dean and Castiel were sitting on the couch together with their usual disregard of personal space and Sam was in a chair by the desk. The only other open seat was the one behind the desk. After a moment’s contemplation, Spencer waved a hand and brought three comfortable armchairs into existence. Bobby, he knew, would go sit behind the desk or lean back against it right by Sam. Making these chairs opened up seating for himself, Ellen and Jo.

Spencer dropped down into his chair and got comfortable, stretching his legs out and crossing them at the ankle. He took a minute to smile over at Castiel and greet him, as was polite. “ _Hello, Uncle._ ” He murmured in Enochian. Using that language in front of the others was worth it when he saw the way it made Castiel’s eyes light up a little. The renegade angel was most likely missing his home and family terribly and any little glimpses of it meant a lot to him. Spencer considered it an easy enough thing to use the occasional Enochian. It was the language he’d dreamed in for most of his life.

“ _Good evening, nephew._ ” Castiel returned warmly. Out of sight of the humans, his wings fluffed up a bit behind him, stretching ever so slightly in a warm, fond greeting that echoed his words.

Pleased with the reaction he got, Spencer got back on the subject at hand, ignoring it as the ladies took the two empty seats and as Bobby came to lean against the desk near Sam. “So, someone walk me through it. What’s the plan?”

“We got some intel after you left last night.” Sam told him. “Lucifer’s going to be in Carthage, tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

Dean nodded. “Yep. So the plan’s pretty simple. We’re gonna go in there, look around, try and make sure we’re not walking into one giant trap, and if the opportunity presents itself we’re gonna gank that freaking bastard and end the whole damn thing.”

That— _that_ was their plan? Spencer looked from one face to the next to try and gauge how serious they were. This was their plan? This was what they were going to do? Just go in, look around, and hope for the best? A group of the best hunters and _this_ was what they came up with? Spencer opened his mouth, closing it again when he couldn’t find the words he wanted. What on earth could he say here? He opened his mouth to try again when another voice beat him to the punch.

“That’s the most ridiculous, half-assed plan I’ve ever heard.”

Most everyone in the room jumped and looked around, trying to place where the voice came from. Bobby leapt away from the desk and almost to the couch, spinning around at the same time. A few hands even moved as if to grab guns. Only Spencer and Castiel kept calm. They both turned towards the desk where Gabriel was sitting in Bobby’s chair, reclined back with his feet up on the desk and a bag of what smelled like caramel corn in his hand. As everyone looked at him, he pulled a piece from the bag and tossed it up in the air, catching it in his mouth. He gave them a look of amusement tinged with mockery as he chewed his bite. “If this is your best chance, boy am I glad I signed up for this party.” He said sarcastically. Another piece of popcorn went up into the air and made its way to his mouth. “I’ll make sure to throw you a real beautiful funeral.”

“Now listen here…” Dean growled out.

At the same time, Bobby was demanding “What are you talking about?”

Gabriel rolled his head toward the side. Raising both his eyebrows, he looked them all over and then rolled his eyes. “Seriously. The fate of the world is in the hands of you chuckleheads.” Sighing, he shook his head. “Hate to break it to you kiddos, but there are just five things in the world that gun won’t kill. Archangels are one of them.”

Oh, great. Spencer shared a look with Castiel, neither one of them doubting Gabriel’s word, not on something like this. Of course, none of the humans in the room were willing to just take him at his word. They all started to protest, Dean’s voice naturally the loudest one in the bunch, demanding to know “Why should we trust you, huh?”

“Do, don’t, I don’t care.” Gabriel said. He reached into his bag, getting a fistful of the caramel corn before tossing up another piece and catching it with his mouth. He turned towards Spencer, holding up his hand with a piece between his fingers, and one mock throw was all the warning Spencer got before the piece of popcorn came flying his way. He didn’t catch it with his mouth, but he did manage to catch it with his hand, popping it directly into his mouth afterwards. No point in wasting good popcorn.

His cavalier attitude wasn’t exactly endearing him to the others, though. Jo was sitting forward in her chair, glaring at him. “Who the hell are you an why should we listen to you?”

“I’m apparently the only one in this whole group that knows how to use his brain enough to keep you idiots from being killed.” Gabriel shot back, making Spencer sigh because, of course, there was absolutely no way that his Dad could make any of this _easy_. He couldn’t just answer questions and explain things. No, he had to be snarky and draw this out for as much fun and dramatic flare as possible.

_Come on, kiddo, don’t take away your old man’s fun_ , Gabriel’s voice played laughingly in Spencer's mind.

Leaning forward, Dean planted his arms on his knees, his hands clenching ever so slightly in a way that suggested to Spencer that he was seriously contemplating trying to go for a stake, even though he had to know by now that that wouldn’t work at all. He probably did know; it wouldn’t stop him from finding it satisfying, though. _“_ I thought you didn’t give a damn about this fight, huh?” Dean asked him. “You were all for _playing our roles_ not that long ago. Now you want us to believe you actually care about what happens to us?”

That had Gabriel laughing. “Who says I care about _you_?” Dropping his feet to the ground, he snapped his fingers and the popcorn bag vanished. Then he pushed up from the chair and moved around the desk, hopping up to sit on the edge of it right by Sam, which in turn made the younger Winchester lean slightly away from him. If Gabriel noticed it, he didn’t let it bother him, he just braced his hands on the edge of the desk and put on his most irritating smirk just for Dean. “However, you’ve got my son with you, and _him_ I care about. If he won’t listen to me and drop you like a hot potato, I’m not gonna let you muttonheads get him killed.”

“I am capable of taking care of myself.” Spencer said dryly, not really expecting to be listened to.

He heard a _snap_ and then Spencer startled as a _pacifier_ appeared in his mouth. Gabriel grinned at him. “Hush now, Spenny Penny, the grownups are talking.” He ignored Spencer's glare, chuckling as Spencer quickly banished the pacifier somewhere far away, and turned his grin back to the others. “It doesn’t matter _why_ I’m doing it.” Gabriel pointed out to them. “What matters is that your plan isn’t going to work. That gun won’t do anything more to Luci than piss him off.”

Sam was the one to ask the question that Spencer knew all the humans were thinking. He did it with surprisingly little malice in his tone, too, actually coming off more curious than demanding. “How do we know you’re telling the truth?”

The way that Gabriel’s eyes lit up at that question was enough to have Spencer sitting up straight in his chair. That was not a good look. No, no, not at all. That was a look that meant trouble of some sort or another. Gabriel sat up a little straighter and spread his hands out wide on either side. “Test it.” Good humor danced in his eyes. “C’mon, Dean-o. You know you wanna shoot me. Admit it. You’ve thought about it.”

“No one’s shooting anyone in my house.” Bobby interjected, stepping between the two. He glared from one to the other like an irate parent warning off his rambunctious children. It amused Spencer more than it probably should’ve to see that look turned towards his father of all people, a being who had literally been around since the beginning of time. “There aint no call for a demonstration. You say it won’t work, then it won’t work. What’re we gonna do now?”

Dean looked both surprised and disappointed. “Bobby! You’re trusting him? _Him_?”

“Spencer trusts him.” Bobby said simply. To him, that was enough, and hearing that warmed Spencer a little. To know that Bobby put that much trust in him had him wanting to sit up a little straighter. Bobby wasn’t the easily trusting type. You had to _earn_ it. Spencer had thought he had, over the years, but it still felt good to hear it confirmed out loud like that.

Clearing his throat, Sam brought their subject back around again. “Bobby’s right, we need to figure out what we’re gonna do now. With or without the gun, we know where the devil’s gonna be and when he’s gonna be there. Can we really just sit back and do nothing?”

“There is nothing that we can do.” Castiel said, straightforward and to the point as always. “Without a means of killing him, we would stand no chance against Lucifer. To go would be suicide.”

“Do you guys even know what he’s there for?” Gabriel asked, kicking his legs like a small, bored child. When no one answered, he rolled his eyes. “Wow, this just keeps getting better and better. My brother’s not there just for kicks and giggles, you numbskulls.”

“Well what’s he there for, then?” Jo demanded, resting her elbows on her knees and leaning forward. “Since apparently you seem to know everything over there.”

If she meant to offend him, she failed miserably. He actually beamed at her like she’d said the most clever thing yet. “See, _now_ you’re catching on!” He snapped his fingers and a sucker appeared in her hand. Jo gave it an amused look, not opening it but not throwing it away, either. She slipped it down into her pocket and then looked back up when Gabriel started to speak again. “There’s not a thing you can do for anyone in that town. If I’m right, and I pretty much always am, my brother’s performing a ritual and he’d need them all.”

“What kind of ritual?” Sam asked.

“He’s raising Death.”

“Death?” Ellen echoed. “We got plenty of that already.”

“No, not death. _Death_. Capital ‘D’ on that, beautiful.” Pushing off the desk, Gabriel hopped down to his feet.

Realization hit and Spencer felt his eyes go wide. “You mean the Horseman. He’s raising Death, the Horseman.”

“Ding, ding, ding!” Gabriel strolled over to stand by Spencer's chair, propping his arm up on it and leaning a little. “He’s raising Death and probably binding him, all at the same time, and there’s not a damn thing that any of you can do about it. There’s no stopping his ritual. That town is already dead. Rushing in there won’t do anything but get you idiots killed.”

The outcry that caused wasn’t any surprise. It was even louder than the one earlier, multiple voices talking and shouting at the same time. Even Castiel’s stern voice could be heard in the din, though he wasn’t arguing what Gabriel had said. He was busy trying to coax Dean into calming down and Spencer had to shake his head at the sight. He had no idea how Castiel dealt with that man’s temper. Spencer had definitely gotten the easier brother of the two. While Sam might’ve had bigger mistakes, and occasionally a much nastier temper, he was pretty easy to deal with, all things considered. Though, right now he looked about ready to burst, his eyes hard and his mouth a tight line. Spencer watched him carefully, wondering if he should lean over to him, maybe try to say something. In the end he decided against it. Best to let him be angry here, with the group, and get it out of his system. Later, Spencer would find him, away from the others, and they could talk then. It was always easier to get Sam to open up and talk when there weren’t people watching who might fuel his temper or mock him for what he said or felt. Namely, his brother. That man and his ‘no chick flick’ rule had frustrated Spencer on more than one occasion.

It was Bobby’s voice that finally broke through the din and shut everyone up. “Enough!” He snapped out, holding his hands out to silence people. “Arguing like this aint gonna get us nowhere.” Once he was sure that no one was going to interrupt him, he moved towards his desk, eyes focusing on Gabriel. “Are you sure there aint nothing we can do? No way of stopping him?”

Unwrapping a lollipop he’d pulled from his pocket, Gabriel stuck it in his mouth, looking entirely unconcerned with everything around him. “Pretty much.”

“Why?” Spencer asked calmly. He knew his father better than anyone else here, and that was including Castiel, and he knew that this wasn’t all of it. There was something more going on. “There’s something more here, something you haven’t told us yet. I believe you when you say we can’t stop him, but you don’t seem upset about it and that suggests that you _want_ Death to rise. So I ask again, why?”

The smile that curved Gabriel’s lips was more real than any he’d showed so far tonight. “Smart cookie.” He said, tapping Spencer's nose and then twisting his hand, making a cookie appear. Spencer rolled his eyes and took it. Grinning, Gabriel tapped his nose again and then leaned back. “You’re right. I mean, I don’t really want Death to rise—I’m not an idiot. But there’s no stopping it, so we might as well make use of it.”

“How?” Jo asked.

“Because if we can get the rings off the Horsemen, we’ll have the key that’ll let us unlock Luci’s cage. We unlock it, we can shove his ass back in.”

CXCX

They spent hours talking about it. Hours and hours and hours, until Spencer swore they’d gone over it from every single angle that was even possible. Not everyone had been quite so accepting of the fact that they wouldn’t be able to save the town. Dean and Jo were the ones that sat in that camp, firmly insisting that there had ot be something that they could do to save the town. Bobby and Ellen had both been hunting long enough to recognize that sometimes there were just some things you couldn’t save. Castiel was a soldier, he knew all about war, and this was war. Some battles were won and some were lost. Sam was the one that surprised Spencer. He wasn’t happy about not being able to help them. He was, however, pragmatic enough to realize that there was nothing he could do. It still weighed on him, though, in that way he had of taking on everything wrong and putting it on his own shoulders. That man would take on the guilt of the world if he could.

When Sam took a momentary break under the guise of going to get coffee, Spencer thought about following him, knowing that this was his best chance to say something and maybe alleviate some of his guilt. Just when he finally decided to rise, his father’s hand settled on his shoulder and squeezed, keeping him in his seat. He watched with surprise when Gabriel rose and followed Sam to the kitchen. Spencer sent a tendril of thought after him. _Be nice to him, Dad_.

He really should’ve expect the reply he got. _Now where’s the fun in that?_

Though it was tempting, Spencer didn’t bother trying to listen in. But he did watch closely until the two came back into the room. Sam’s shoulders weren’t quite as slumped as they had been and his eyes had brightened just a bit. Whatever they’d said, it’d done him some good. Spencer tipped his head and looked up at his father as Gabriel perched on the arm of his chair, holding two mugs. “Whatever you did, thank you.” Spencer murmured.

Gabriel passed one of the mugs down to him and winked. Then he turned his attention back to the group. It surprised Spencer that Gabriel was actually sticking around for this. But stay he did. He stayed through the arguments about saving the town and through the discussion about what they were going to do next. He wasn’t exactly the most helpful of souls, spending more time being irritating than anything else, but he still gave little bits here and there that were helpful in the long run.

For his part, Spencer didn’t do a whole lot. He didn’t contribute all that much to their bickering and planning. While he was used to working with a team, the group here was nothing like the BAU, and he wasn’t quite comfortable with fitting himself in. In situations like this he was far more comfortable just staying back on the sidelines and contributing when he was needed. He spent most of the time sipping off the coffee Gabriel had brought and running through things in his own mind.

Right at the moment this seemed like their best plan. Hunting down the Horsemen, getting their rings, using the key to open the cage and stuffing Lucifer back into his prison. There was so much that would need to be done, though. Endless questions that needed answered. How would they find the Horsemen? Once they did, how would they get the rings from them? Most importantly—how would they get Lucifer to actually go back in once they did open it? It wasn’t likely he’d just say ‘okay’ and go quietly. That question was the one they were all debating the most now, and it was the one that not even Gabriel had an answer for. When Dean asked him how to do it, he hadn’t liked it when Gabriel had answered “I don’t know.”

“What do you mean, you don’t know?”

“What, am I supposed to do _everything_ here?” Gabriel had shot back. “I kept you from a suicide mission and gave you a way of opening up the Cage. _You_ figure out the next step.”

Morning light was filling the living room when something finally broke up their talk. Spencer had been half dozing in his chair, Bobby and Ellen long since gone to bed—in separate bedrooms, despite the raucous teasing that they’d had to endure—and it was mostly Dean, Sam, Jo and the angels debating things, when the sound of Spencer's cell phone ringing woke him up. He barely stirred from where his head had come to rest against Gabriel’s side. With one hand he reached down into his pocket and pulled the phone out, pressing it to his ear without looking. “Dr. Reid.”

JJ’s familiar voice came down the line. “ _Hey, Reid, sorry to wake you._ ”

Stifling a yawn, Spencer put a hand on Gabriel’s leg and pushed up, straightening himself up. “No, no, it’s fine, JJ. I’m up.” He wiped a hand over his face to try and make himself more alert, not really paying attention to the eyes that were on him. “Is there a case?”

“ _Not technically. I know today was supposed to be our day off, but everyone’s coming in. We think we might have a better way of tracking the Reaper, Reid._ ”

Well that was enough to have Spencer waking up. His whole body snapped alert and his brain was suddenly wide awake. “Really? How?”

_“We’ve been tracking his prescriptions as a whole, but when I was at the pharmacy this morning I found out that some medications can be substituted by over the counter meds. So Hotch has Garcia looking through the list to try and find the ones that_ can’t _be substituted and use those ones to run her search with. Plus, we got the information back about the postmarks, so we’ve got two places to work with right now, so we can narrow our search to surrounding cities._ ”

Holy crap. This was the most they’d had in _months_. “I’ll be there as quick as I can drive.”

“ _Don’t be reckless._ ” JJ said, mothering him the same as she always did. _“Drive safe._ ”

Spencer hung up his phone a moment later and, for the first time, realized that everyone was looking at him. “Is everything okay?” Sam asked carefully.

“It’s fine. I just…I need to go.” Spencer knew he sounded jittery, knew that he was probably only worrying them more, but this was important. This was just as important as what they were doing here if only because it was personal. It was about friends of his that were so close they were like family. If they could really catch the Reaper, if Aaron could finally get his family back home—there was nothing Spencer wanted more. He’d been just as desperate as the others to try and get this case solved. He’d even tried to use his abilities to track Foyet down somehow only to fail time and time again. How, he didn’t know. How on earth was the man protected from him? How was it that he hadn’t been able to find him _at all_? It had worried Spencer countless times through this case, making him wonder over and over if there was something slightly supernatural about the Reaper. There was nothing to back that up; just his inability to find the man. But it had made Spencer cautious. That was why he’d discreetly given both Hayley and Jack something after they left, using his angelic abilities to slip in during the night when they were sleeping and wouldn’t know. Between the protective sigils he’d silently left on them, hidden from view, and the Marshall that was watching them, those two were as well hidden as they could possibly be.

A firm hand settled on Spencer's shoulder and he blinked his eyes, giving his head a little shake to clear away his thoughts. When he turned he found Gabriel watching him with understanding. Most likely he’d heard every word of the call. “Go on, Spencer. I’ll stick round here with the kiddos and keep an eye on things. You go catch the little bastard.”

“Thanks.” Smiling gratefully, Spencer reached up and caught his hand, giving it a squeeze. Then he looked over one last time to Sam. “Remember, if you need me, call me. I’ll still be listening.” And with that, he was gone.


	10. Chapter 10

Three days had gone by since Sam had last seen Spencer. There hadn’t been a single sign of him, not in visit and not even in text, and Sam was surprised to realize that this was the longest they’d gone without talking to one another since Spencer had joined up with ‘Team Free Will’.

The brothers had decided that sticking around Bobby’s wasn’t what they wanted to do. Any planning or research that needed done could be done on the road. Especially considering the amazing house Spencer was lending them that they could access anywhere that had a door. When you could magically go to the same place every night, no matter where you were, why not travel around? They found themselves a case that they thought might be werewolves and set out the very same day Spencer left. To Sam’s surprise, they left with two extra companions. Castiel and Gabriel both came along with them, riding in the backseat of the impala like it was the most normal thing in the world, completely ignoring the glares that Dean sent back through the mirror. It didn’t take long before Sam found himself really starting to miss his quiet and polite angel.

Sam wasn’t afraid to admit that he wanted his friend back for less than altruistic reasons. Sure, he was worried about him, and a good part of him wanted to see Spencer simply because he’d know then that his friend was all right. But some of his reasons were purely selfish. Until Spencer had left, Sam hadn’t quite realized just how much of a buffer the young nephilim had been, especially between Gabriel and Dean. Not that Gabriel had really been around long enough for Sam to build any conclusions before, but it had seemed like they hadn’t been bickering _too_ badly during their all night planning session. Sam had actually been a little proud of his big brother for how well he was handling having Gabriel around. Especially after the massive fit that Dean had thrown after they’d first found out about the archangel.

Yeah, that pride was pretty much gone, as was any real signs of civility between the two.

He had no idea what it was about one another that grated so much with them. All he knew was that they couldn’t go more than five words to one another without saying something snarky. They were bickering almost constantly. Maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Sam could’ve gotten a break at some point. But Gabriel was apparently taking his promise to Spencer to heart because he hadn’t once left them for anything other than to let them sleep since Spencer had left. Even then, he was there when they woke up, generally sitting at the table of their motel room with his feet up and his chair tipped back, munching on some piece of candy or another. Usually something with a loud wrapper that he loved to use to irritate Dean awake.

In turn, for every sour thing that Gabriel did to Dean, each argumentative moment that he had with him, he had an equal and opposite moment with Sam. The younger Winchester thought that maybe it was because Sam was Spencer's ‘charge’ and so Gabriel felt more responsibility towards him. Or maybe it was that Sam didn’t feel the need to fight with Gabriel every two seconds and could actually recognize when something he said was a good idea. Or maybe it was just that Sam recognized that they were in a shitty position and holding grudges against the hell Gabriel had put him through would really get him nowhere. Whatever it was, Gabriel didn’t seem to feel the need to torment him the way he was Dean. If anything, he was being _nice_. In his own, unique, Gabriel sort of way.

He was still sarcastic, and Sam doubted that there was any force in the world that could stop that, only it was without the sharper edge to it, making it more teasing than offensive, immensely different from the sharp way that he spoke to the older Winchester. He teased him one moment, then the next would be snapping in food and telling Sam that he needed to eat because “Spencer would pitch a fit if I brought his puppy back half starved.”

It wasn’t just Gabriel irritating Dean, though. Dean was just as bad and just as guilty. He had a snide remark for everything Gabriel said. Every idea the archangel gave was dismissed almost instantly simply because it was him that gave it, no matter how good the idea was. In the end, it made him short with everyone else, too, because Dean never handled his irritation well. It tended to spill out on anyone within the immediate vicinity.

All in all, it left the younger Winchester in a pretty crappy position with only occasional backup from Castiel. Even that wasn’t that much. When Castiel showed up, there was no doubt he showed up for Dean, and most of his time was spent in long glances that left Sam shaking his head but that he knew better than to comment on.

He finally had enough of it when they reached the fourth day. The case was done and they’d had to leave town rather quickly, but it was late enough that they were simply planning on driving a ways before finding a motel to crash at, and then they’d pick things back up in the morning and find themselves a new case. By the time they found that motel, Sam was done. A six hour car ride with two angels in the backseat and a constant battle going on between Dean and Gabriel and it left Sam ready to pull his hair out by the roots. He barely waited for Dean to park at the motel before he was out the door. “I’ll get our room.” Anything, to get away from them.

In no time he had their room keys and was making his way back outside, down the row to where their room sat. A gesture from him had Dean following in the car and parking right in front of their door. Sam said nothing, ignoring them all, and just tossed one of the keys to Dean. Then he grabbed his bag from the trunk and made his way quickly towards the door, ushering his brother ahead of him. He’d had enough of this. Enough of the stupid fighting and the tension and the irritation. How the hell was he supposed to work with these people when they chose to act like this? Sam was going to be eternally grateful when Spencer got back and could help play the role of buffer once more .Sam wouldn’t take that for granted again.

For now, though, he had to do something before he hit someone just to shut them up. With that in mind he hurried his brother into the motel room, ignoring the annoyed sound that Dean made. “Damn, Sammy, what’s the hurry?” His brother growled at him.

“Shut up.” Sam snapped back. He didn’t even bother to dump his bag on the bed, nor did he give Dean time to dump his. He just kept ushering him forward while at the same time reaching into his pocket for the key he never let get far from him. “I’ve had about enough of listening to you two bicker like freaking preschoolers. I don’t care what you angels do, but Dean and I are going to the safe house. It’s the safest place we know, so we don’t need protection. We’re going to spend the night there, he and I, away from everyone, and we’ll see you guys in the morning.”

Once Dean realized what he was doing, Sam didn’t need to usher him forward anymore. The man strode right up to the bathroom door and stood just enough to the side for Sam to reach around him with the key.

“The safe house?” Gabriel asked from somewhere behind them. “What safe house? Where?”

Sam ignored him and jammed the key into the doorknob of the bathroom door, for once not even marveling at how it made its own lock in the smooth metal, and then with a quick twist he had it unlocked and the door open and he and Dean were striding into the safe house that Spencer had opened for their use. He found it beyond satisfying to snap the door shut behind him.

There was no telling how long it would take before anyone showed up here. According to Spencer, this place was warded to the hilt, and the sigils on their ribs would keep him from being tracked, but Castiel had come here with them last time, so he’d be able to fly in without having to use the key. Who knew whether or not he’d see the need to follow, or if Gabriel might. Sam didn’t know and at the moment he didn’t care what either angel wanted. He just wanted some _peace_.

What he hadn’t expected was to find someone already there.

There wasn’t a single light on in the living room when Sam walked slowly in, Dean following oddly quietly beside him. The fireplace was lit, crackling merrily against the far wall, yet the place felt obscenely cold. Cold and heavy. It was a perfect match for the foul weather raging outside. Neither Sam nor Dean had ever given in to the urge to step outside of this place. From the windows, it looked like there was real land out there, grass and trees and all of that, but they had no idea if that was what was really out there or if they were in some pocket dimension that Spencer had made. Dean had been full of warnings about potentially stepping out and getting killed or something of the like. However, real or not, right now there was a massive storm out there. Rain was pelting the house hard enough that Sam could hear the echoes of it all around him, broken by random deep booms of thunder.

Dean put an arm out in front of Sam, nudging him back just a step so that his older brother was more in front of than beside him, and the familiar gesture warmed Sam just the slightest bit. That was a gesture ingrained in Dean a long, long time ago, one of those little quirks that fell into the category of ‘protect Sammy’ in his mind. Even as Sam enjoyed seeing that part of his brother, a part he hadn’t thought to see again, he mentally rolled his eyes over it. Who was going to be here to harm them? There was only one person that Sam could think of that would be here and they didn’t have anything to fear from him.

His guesses proved right when they rounded the corner enough to see a long, lanky form stretched out over the ridiculously long couch. Spencer was on his back, feet on the armrest and crossed at the ankles, one arm tucked behind his head and the other hand holding a glass that was resting on his chest. It was hard to tell in the dim light of the room but it looked like his eyes were closed. Honestly, it looked like he was barely breathing at all, and Sam made as if to step forward only to be stopped by Dean’s arm. The older Winchester kept his brother in place, keeping them back a safe distance as he called out “Spencer?”

The man on the couch didn’t flinch. He didn’t even open his eyes. He did, however, respond, taking away some of Sam’s worry. “Winchesters.” He drawled out.

There was something to his voice that Sam hadn’t heard there before. Unconsciously, he rubbed at the goosebumps that rose on his arm. Spencer's voice was just as cold and heavy as the air around them seemed to be. That thought wasn’t a settling one. Sam drew in a breath and tried to make his voice low and soothing as he asked “What’s going on, Spencer? We haven’t seen you for a few days and we’ve been wondering about you.”

“I took a break.” Spencer said flatly. Eyes still closed, he lifted his glass and down what was left in it like it was water. Sam had a strong feeling that water wasn’t what was in there.

“A break.” Dean echoed.

Slowly opening his eyes, Spencer turned to look over at them and Sam sucked in a breath at the look there. Oh man, something was going on here, something huge, and whatever it was, it was _bad_. “Yes, a _break_.” Spencer repeated the words slowly, the sharp edge of sarcasm tinging his tone, and man he’d sounded sarcastic with Dean before but nothing like this. The young nephilim pushed himself upwards, feet dropping down to the ground. He moved with a sort of grace that Sam hadn’t seen in him before, flowing like water as he rose up to his feet. Dean made as if to step back, and to take Sam with him, but Spencer didn’t come towards them. He strolled over towards the bar on the side of the room. They watched as he grabbed the bottle and generously refilled his glass.

“Are you telling me…we’ve been out there hunting and planning and you’ve been hiding out here getting _drunk_?” Dean asked incredulously. A little hypocritically, Sam thought, considering Dean’s coping mechanism, and considering that the man had most likely been planning on getting drunk tonight, too.

Spencer snorted before taking a big drink. He lowered his glass and shot Dean a look over it that was pure Trickster, hard edged and mocking with that damned raised eyebrow and the smile that seemed as much threat as anything else. “I have _not_ spent the past few days drunk. I just got here a few hours ago. However, tonight I intend on getting very, very drunk, a sentiment I’m quite sure the two of you will understand.” He took another heavy drink, emptying out his glass before refilling it once more. “Isn’t it, after all, a Winchester tradition to drown one’s sorrows in alcohol? Why, it’s almost like I’m becoming a part of the team.”

The brothers exchanged a speaking look, both of them wondering what the hell was going on here that created this and what they should do about it. Sam looked up towards the ceiling and then cocked one eyebrow, a silent question that had Dean shaking his head. Okay, so no calling in reinforcements. That meant that they were on their own with this. But what should they do? Dean gave a tiny, barely noticeable shrug, a sort of roll-with-it kind of expression on his face, and Sam stifled a sigh. Great. A drunk, obviously upset Spencer, who had a problem they had no idea about and who seemed intent on getting drunk—something that Sam knew wasn’t something he indulged in, as Spencer had once told him, and something that took a hell of a lot of alcohol to achieve—and Dean didn’t want to call in angelic backup. This was going to turn out just _great_. Just his luck that he’d come here to avoid playing referee between his brother and an archangel and now he was going to have to do the same between his brother and a nephilim.

“You two are rather creepy when you do that, I hope you know.” Spencer announced, bringing their attention back towards him. He cocked his head to the side like Castiel often did when curious about something and he furrowed his eyebrows. “I wonder if that’s what people think when they watch us profile someone. Hm. Interesting.”

If Dean thought anything about his words, he didn’t show it. He strolled forward casually and gestured towards the glass with one finger. “You gonna share any of that?”

“You might not want to stay. As I said, I plan on getting severely intoxicated, and I’m not in the most polite of moods.”

“I think we can handle it.”

Spencer let out a short, harsh bark of laughter. “Why not? I’d hate to be drunk alone.” He pulled out another two glasses, plus a bottle of water, ignoring the look that got him. “Just one glass, though. It’s Asgardian mead and I’d rather not kill you, so I’m diluting yours. Deal with it or don’t drink. Your brother wouldn’t be happy with me if I let you drink alcohol meant for the gods and you got alcohol poisoning. Your angel would probably try to smite me, too.”

“He’s not _my_ angel.”

Snorting, Spencer handed over the glass, apparently not in the mood to listen to Dean’s stupid protestations that they all knew were a lie, anyways. “Just keep telling yourself that, Winchester. You’re the only one that believes it. You want one too, Sam?”

Sam shook his head, still standing slightly cautiously close to Dean. “No, thank you.”

“Suit yourself.” Lifting his glass, Spencer didn’t hesitate to down it all in one go.

What the hell was going on here? This was a side of Spencer that Sam hadn’t seen before. One that didn’t seem to fit the sweetly shy boy he’d slowly gotten to know. There was none of Spencer's natural shyness, none of that playfulness that he usually tried to suppress. There wasn’t even any of the cockiness that Sam had noticed the nephilim adopted when he was trying to hide what he really felt. This—this was grief, he realized. He could see it in Spencer's eyes now as they locked on the fire. Little bits of gold lit from the fire’s glow, but otherwise his eyes were dull, dark with a pain that was so strong it was leaking out around them. The oppressive mood in the house, the raging storm outside, they were all physical manifestations of whatever this grief was that was apparently ripping Spencer apart and sending him into hiding to drink himself into oblivion, alone.

While Sam was figuring all of this out in his head, he was distracted enough that he didn’t really notice just how strong the alcohol was until it was too late. Even with watering it down and giving him a smaller dose, the alcohol was potent enough to give Dean a pretty damn good buzz with just the one drink, and that mixed together with the pissed off mood he’d been in that had steadily grown the longer he’d been forced to deal with that damn annoying Trickster, making him slightly mouthier and slightly stupider than normal. Before Sam realized and could stop him, Dean was asking “So if you just got here not long ago, where’ve you been the past few days? Did you forget we’ve kind of got an apocalypse we’re fighting here? Horsemen’s rings to find?”

Spencer's eyes flashed gold when they snapped to Dean. “Don’t you dare talk to me about your damn apocalypse. Tonight, of all nights, don’t you dare.”

“Dude, what’s your problem?”

Sam tugged on Dean’s arm, trying to pull him back, but it was already too late and he tried not to groan out loud. Damn his brother for speaking without thinking! Couldn’t he tell that now was really the absolute worst time to pull this? No, of course he couldn’t. Temper and alcohol weren’t a good combination in him.

“My problem?” Spencer straightened up and a loud boom of thunder sounded outside, closer than any of the others. The nephilim held himself tall and though Sam knew he was the taller of them, he stepped back as it felt like Spencer towered over them, glaring down at Dean. “You want to know what my problem is, Winchester? My problem is you and your damn war. My _problem_ is that I’ve given so much of my personal time to you and your brother, to helping you save the world, that I gave up on other things. _Important_ things. My _problem_!” His glass went flying, shattering in the fireplace while the whole house seemed to shake form the next blast of thunder, and Sam dragged his brother back, for the very first time actually feeling afraid in his friend’s presence. Spencer stalked after them, furious eyes glaring at Dean, pinning his gaze. “My _problem_ is that I was so _damned busy_ saving you and your family that I let _mine_ get ripped apart!”

The very air seemed to vibrate with the pain in those last few words. Rain was hitting the roof harder and harder until it was a wonder it wasn’t coming through the roof. The thunder was directly over them now and the room was briefly lit by a sharp blast of lightning.

They had to get him calm. Sam took one small step forward, angling himself so that he was the one in front and Dean was the one protectively behind him. Right now Spencer was shouting at Dean, not Sam, and maybe removing the older Winchester might help. Sam held his hands out peacefully in front of him to try and show Spencer that he wasn’t armed and he wasn’t trying anything. “Spencer, man, I need you to calm down, okay? I need you to take a deep breath and calm down. You’ve got that storm going crazy outside and you’re about to bring the house down around us. I know Dean pissed you off—trust me, I know how good he is at that—but you know he doesn’t mean anything by it. Just, please, take a breath, calm down and talk to us. Whatever’s going on, we can help you.”

A shuddering breath ran through Spencer and his gold ringed eyes turned to Sam. “You can’t help. It’s too late. It’s too damn late.” In contrast to his pervious shouting, his voice was now low and quiet, throbbing in the air like an open wound. All at once it seemed like he deflated. The storm outside calmed some and Spencer's shoulders slumped under a heavy mantle of grief that was etched across his face. “I should’ve put more effort into finding Foyet. I’ve got skills the team doesn’t, after all. I should’ve worked harder. But I didn’t. And now Hotch wife is dead because I decided I was talented enough to live two lives at the same time. Just…just leave me alone.” Curling in on himself, Spencer turned away from them. “Leave me alone.” With those soft words, he left the room, leaving both Winchesters stunned behind him.

Sam made as if to follow him out of the room, wanting to go help his friend, but a hand on his arm stopped him. He turned and was surprised to find that it wasn’t Dean who was holding him back. It was Castiel. The angel’s blue eyes were brighter than normal and full of sympathy and sadness. “Let him go.” Castiel told him that low, serious voice of his. “Gabriel is with him. He will care for his son.”

“How long have you guys been here?” Dean asked him.

Letting go of Sam’s arm, Castiel took a step back so he could look at them both. “Almost since the start.”

“What was he talking about, Cas?” Sam asked hesitantly.

Castiel hesitated briefly before coming to a decision. “Spencer's team at the BAU has been hunting down a serial killer known as the Reaper. He has been targeting their Unit Chief personally. Aaron Hotchner’s wife and son were placed into protective custody to keep them safe. Three days ago, George Foyet murdered the United States Marshall guarding the two and later killed Hayley Hotchner in her home while she was on the phone with Aaron and the rest of the team listened in. Her son hid successfully and Aaron arrived in time to save him, subsequently killing George Foyet.”

Holy shit. They’d had to _listen_ as this killer murdered the wife of their boss? No wonder Spencer was hurting! The way that he talked about the team gave Sam the impression that they were as close as family. A loss like this had to be devastating.

“Why does he feel so guilty, though?” Dean asked. “I mean, it doesn’t sound like it was his fault.”

Bright eyes shifting towards the hallway, Castiel sighed, showing more emotion in that moment than usually crossed his face. It was easy for Sam to see in that brief moment just how much of an impact the young nephilim had had on the one he called Uncle. Castiel might not always show it, but a bond had been made there. They were family. And right now, Castiel was grieving for his family. “Spencer believes that he should have spent more time trying to find George Foyet. He also blames himself for having protected the Hotchners so thoroughly that even he was unable to locate them in enough time to save Hayley. He takes much on his shoulders that is not his responsibility.”

CXCX

By the time that morning rolled around, it was a much different Spencer that stood on the back porch, drinking coffee and watching the sunrise. The grief of the past few days had peaked and exploded out of him last night. First on Dean and Sam, something that he knew he was going to have to apologize for at some point, and then later on in private with his father. Letting out the sharper edge of that pain had helped him to find his head once more and clear it of some of the darker thoughts. It hadn’t taken it all, though. The grief was still there, as was the guilt, no matter how hard Gabriel had tried to banish it. Spencer knew he had every reason to feel it.

He’d known from the start that it would be tricky for him to live two lives like this. To be both agent and angel. Eventually something would slip and he’d end up paying for it. He just hadn’t expected the price to be such a high one.

There was no way he could continue to do this. Not like this. The choice he’d been afraid of was finally being pushed on him and in the end there was really no choice. He could do only one thing. Today, he would go to the Bureau, and he would take the paperwork that had been sitting on his desk for weeks now and bring it to Strauss. For the next six months Dr. Spencer Reid was going on emergency medical leave. Right now was a hard time, he knew, and she wouldn’t want to allow him, but he had all the documentation faked to show that he had a very ill family member. They wouldn’t be able to tell him no.

That would give Spencer six months to devote everything he had to this. He could give his full, undivided attention to keeping Sam safe and stopping the apocalypse. And, Grandfather willing, if things turned out well, he could go back to his life when those six months were up.

There was a small part of him that whispered that he knew that would never happen. He chose to ignore it.

This wasn’t a regular little hunt. This was a war. Sacrifices had to be made. But Spencer wasn’t going to allow his team to be the ones to make those sacrifices anymore. He wasn’t going to put them at risk because he was too focused on something else. They could fill in his spot while he was gone with someone that would be able to dedicate everything to the job, the way that it should be. Meanwhile, Spencer would dedicate everything he had to _this_ job. No more half-assed work. He would keep his friends and his family in this life safe, and in a way, he was keeping his other friends and family safe, too. He was helping to keep the world safe.

It was time for SSA Dr. Spencer Reid to step aside and for the other part of him to come forward. Agent or angel—the choice had been made, at least for now.

Wings curled loosely around him, Spencer sipped at his coffee and watched the sun rise on a new day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All right, everyone, that’s the end of this one! I’m already started on the next story, which will take us through the end of the Apocalypse. :) I hope to see all of you there. I hope you guys like things so far. Is there anything you want to see happen in the next story—or any story after that? (I have a lot planned, lol) Anything you want to see? Anything you don’t want to see? And, an important question: How do you feel about mpreg? It's not a necessity don't worry. Just curious. 
> 
> Please, everyone, let me know what you think, and thank you so much for reading what I’ve put up so far!
> 
> From the looks of our poll (Though I haven’t added everything yet) it’s looking like a lot of people really wanted to see Spencer/Lucifer. Now, I don’t know how you guys see that, but I doubt it’s the way I see it :P I can work with this but I don’t think it’ll be quite what you picture, because I can’t see Spencer falling in love with someone he calls Uncle lol Honestly, if pushed, I’d see it as more of a non-con thing, but meh, that’s just one view. Who knows? I might come up with something else.
> 
> But, anyways, that means that if that wins, or the others we’ll have Dean/Cas and Sam/Gabriel, which are two of my ships anyways lol We’ll see. Who knows! Sam/Spencer might still win!
> 
> Hope to see you all soon!


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